Everything Except Temptation
by Macceh
Summary: Change the past, to save the future. That was the plan. They'd planned to use Logan. They'd planned not to change Cuba. Because, Miss Walker was right, it would be dangerously foolish thing to do: give Shaw a second chance to destroy the world. They'd be fools to risk it… but maybe that's what they are – sentimental, old, fools… [AU][Written before DoFP was released][Not Slash]
1. Prologue

**Everything except Temptation**

"_I can resist everything except temptation" _– Oscar Wilde

As I said in the summary, this was written before Days of Future Past was released. When I started writing this I only had the trailer to go off, and so the mechanisms of time travel in this fic are inconsistent with those shown in Days of Future Past (and there are a few other inconsistencies as well). In this fic going back in time is a permanent, one-way trip, Logan isn't the only person capable of making it and the Professor and Magneto have been considering the possibility of sending someone back in time for rather longer than was portrayed in Days of Future Past.

I hope, despite the fact it's no longer canon, you enjoy this story. I certainly enjoyed writing it, even though I normally don't like writing OCs. In fact I normally wouldn't write anything like this! But, this fic just dug its teeth in and wouldn't let go until I finished it. So, here we are…

**Prologue**

It's not her 'dirty little secret', not _really_.

But some days it feels like it is.

It's not that she's doing anything wrong, _per se_. But she knows her students won't see it like that. They'll see it as a betrayal. They won't understand why she does it. Quite frankly, she doesn't really understand why she does it either.

It starts one sunny afternoon in early September; the leaves are starting to turn, there's a hint of a chill in the wind that gusts through the trees – a forecast of the months to come – but overall it's still warm enough not to need more than a lightweight jacket over her summer dress. It's one of her favourites; forget-me-not blue, strapless and full skirted. It makes her feel beautiful, like a movie star. It's not just the dress that makes her feel like that; the man walking beside her is as responsible for that feeling as anything else. He makes her feel special, cherished, safe, and that's partly why she can feel herself falling in love with him… that, and the fact that he doesn't care about what she can do with her mind, doesn't care that she's different, doesn't care that she's not human like him… that she's a mutant.

They stroll hand-in-hand through the park and Natalie can feel herself practically humming with happiness, she's so full of it that it's bubbling up and spilling over in gentle waves of joy and contentment. There's a small smile on David's face that lets her know that he's noticed the second-hand emotions that she's projecting – it's one of the perils of dating an empath. But, he doesn't say anything, he's content to just enjoy it, to let her spread a little more joy around.

He's not the only one who notices though.

They're walking past a group of old men playing chess when one of the men looks up at them as they pass. Natalie turns to smile at him, to share her joy at the world, when she recognises the face beneath the wide brimmed hat. The smile freezes on her face, and her happiness evaporates so quickly that David feels it and turns to ask her what's wrong. She shakes her head at him, dismisses it as nothing, leads him away from the man with the hat as fast as she can without it looking suspicious. She goes back to projecting joy and contentment - though this time it's fake - and while she doesn't think she's completely convinced David that she is fine, he at least doesn't ask her what's wrong again. He trusts her to tell him when she's ready.

She's not sure she'll ever be ready.

So she doesn't understand why, the next day, she goes out of her way to walk back through the park. David isn't with her this time. He's at work and she should be too - yes, Ororo said she could handle things for a while, that Natalie should take some time and get away from the seething mass of teenage trauma and hormones that is the Xavier Institute at the moment. But they're so short staffed, Natalie feels guilty about taking more than a day or two off at a time…. So, she really doesn't understand why, instead of heading back to her students, she finds herself slipping into an empty seat in the park.

The man on the other side of the chessboard looks up as she sits down. There's a mixture of amusement and curiosity in his eyes as he recognises her.

"Miss Walker, isn't it?" He asks amiably.

Natalie nods and smiles cordially, she's surprised he remembers her name - they've only actually met once before - but she hides her surprise behind a polite exterior. "Mr Lehnsherr." She says, and then doesn't know what else to say. She looks down at the board instead. He's just laid out the pieces again, after his last game, and Natalie realises she's sat down on the white side of the board. So, she picks up a pawn and moves it across the board. He raises a dignified eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.

They play in silence for the next ten minutes until he beats her. She doesn't say anything, just re-lays the pieces, and they start again. Their fourth game is interrupted by a phone call from a rather stressed Ororo, who apologises profusely for interrupting Natalie's time off, but someone's rather spectacularly blown up the TV and while, no, nobody's actually physically hurt, there's a very upset 12-year old who could do with the help of the school's resident empath. Natalie is standing to leave before the phone call is even over; she nods a farewell to the man across the chessboard, more from an ingrained sense of politeness than anything else. He returns the gesture, but she barely notices as she hurries back to the chaos of Westchester.

XXXXXX

Over the next three weeks there are four more silent chess sessions. Some longer than others, most eventually end with Natalie having to hurry away to some semi-crisis or other – if she'd known 6 months ago, when Ororo first called, just how much stress was involved in teaching a bunch of emotionally traumatised mutants, well, Natalie isn't sure she'd have been quite so quick to drop her PhD and fly across the Atlantic. Some days she thinks the only thing stopping her getting on a plane and flying back to England, back to the mad serenity of Cambridge, is the debt she feels she owes the Professor. Oh, she does love the kids really, wants them to grow and thrive, wants to help them heal, but she's not used to the constant barrage of emotions living with dozens of teenagers entails.

She's not used to the nightmares either.

She knows she's lived a sheltered life. Knows, she's been incredibly lucky compared to most of her students. She discovered her mutation quite late. She was already at University when she realised that the huge emotional mood swings she'd been experiencing for years weren't just down to hormones, that they were due to other people's emotions, not just her own. Thankfully, one of her Professors had understood what she was going through, had contacted an old friend of hers and arranged for Natalie to take a year out of her studies to learn how to control her talents under the tutelage of Professor Charles Xavier.

That was seven years ago. Since then she's finished her undergraduate and Masters' degrees, and is currently half way through a PhD on 'The Genetic Heritage of Homo neanderthalensis in Modern Homo sapiens'. She's spent the last seven years safe in Cambridge's ivory towers, where nobody cares whether you're gay or straight, human or mutant. Black or white or blue, male or female, all anyone really cares about is the quality of your research. Even in the academic bubble of Cambridge, though, she'd been aware of the growing tensions between humans and mutants out in the wider world. But, they'd seemed like distant worries compared to thesis deadlines and lectures and the trials of teaching undergraduates.

Distant, until Ororo Munroe had telephoned to tell her that Professor Xavier was dead, and to ask her if she would be able to take a year's sabbatical to come and teach at the Xavier Institute.

Distant, until she'd spent her first night experiencing the second hand nightmares of several dozen traumatised teenagers.

Those tensions are painfully close now.

Those tensions are looking at her over a chessboard.

The man previously known as Magneto studies her as she studies the board; she can feel his eyes on her but she keeps all her attention on the pieces in front of her. They've played well over a dozen games over the last few weeks and not once has Natalie come even close to winning. She's not really surprised by that though; Chess isn't her strength and she knows Erik Lehnsherr has had decades of experience playing against one of the greatest minds of his generation.

Still, the constant losing is starting to annoy her.

She wonders if that's the reason she keeps coming back. A stubborn desire to persevere against the odds is one of the cornerstones of her personality; stubbornness got her through her degrees, is getting her through her PhD, and if she's being brutally honest is the real reason she hasn't got on a plane back to England yet (that and David). But, she doesn't really think that's the reason she's sat here playing chess with a man who scares the shit out of her.

She wants to say it's a desire to overcome her fears, to conquer the object of so many of her students' nightmares, that causes her to keep coming back to this park, to this man, but she knows that's not the real reason either.

The cynical part of her suggests it's because the school is a deafening chorus of loud voices and even louder emotions, and this man at least knows how to keep his thoughts quiet.

The honest part of her suspects it's something simpler. Something simpler and yet infinitely more complicated. Something as integral a part of her personality as her stubbornness: curiosity.

The truth is she's curious about Erik Lehnsherr. She knows he was the Professor's friend, his ally. That they once trusted each other, that even after decades of disagreement, of fighting, the Professor still went to visit this man in prison, to play chess with him. She wants to know what happened to push them apart. She wants to know what drives a man to do the things Magneto did. She wants to know why a clever man like Lehnsherr (and he most certainly is a clever man even if he isn't quite the genius the Professor was) can't see how stupid his attacks on humanity were, how he only made things worse for the mutant cause. She could dress that curiosity up in noble clothes and claim it is all in the cause of learning how to prevent any of her students following in Magneto's footsteps, but the truth is she just likes to know how things work, how people work.

She moves her bishop and waits for him to take her castle.

He does and she takes his knight.

She can't help but feel slightly smug as he raises a surprised eyebrow – it's the first time she's made a move he hasn't expected. She's not stupid, she knows he's been playing with her, stringing their games along, drawing them out because he can and because he knows he can win any time he likes. He leans back in his chair and smiles slightly. "Not bad." He says, the first words either of them has said to each other since they greeted each other three weeks ago, and she finds herself smiling back at him.

Six moves later he has her in checkmate.

She lays down her king and as she leans back in her chair she realises she's still smiling. Then she realises he's smiling as well and there's something that almost looks like pride in his eyes when he looks at her and reaches over to replace the knight she took. And _that_ just makes her more curious.

"Why?" She asks suddenly.

He looks up, his brow furrowing in polite curiosity. "'Why' what, my dear?"

"Why did you make them hate us even more?"

He frowns at that and puts down the bishop he just picked up. "What do you mean?"

She raises an incredulous eyebrow; he knows exactly what she means. "Everything you did, every time you attacked them, you just made them hate us more, fear us more."

"They were always going to fear us."

Her thoughts drift briefly to David, wonderful, human, David who definitely doesn't fear her. "Really?"

"Humanity will always fear what it doesn't understand."

She inclines her head slightly in a half nod acquiescing the point. "True, but the solution to that is education, not violence."

"You sound just like Charles, my dear." There's something in his voice that means she doesn't quite know how to take that, whether it's meant to be a compliment or not. His tone is neutral, but there's something in his eyes, a sadness, almost bitter but not quite, and something else, regret perhaps? Whatever it is, it feels oddly private and Natalie finds herself shying away from it, not wanting to pry.

Instead she shrugs slightly and continues the conversation, as if she hasn't just caught a fleeting glimpse of this man's soul. "Look at any civil rights movement; peaceful protest and education are more effective than terrorist bombings and murders. History shows us that it's a futile course of action."

He tips his head slightly, though whether it's to concede her point or not, she's not sure. "History also has its share of genocides." He says quietly, his tone iron hard. She doesn't know whether it's a conscious movement or not, but he turns his wrist slightly and for the first time she notices the numbers inked into his forearm.

She knows what they mean.

She leans back in her chair studying the man in front of her in the light of this revelation. He meets her gaze. He knows what she's just seen and his eyes are challenging her to argue against his point. She doesn't, not yet. Instead she reaches out and silently finishes laying out the chess pieces.

She moves a pawn and then sits back again, waiting him for him to make his move.

They move pieces in silence for several minutes. She watches him more than she watches the board. Eventually she moves a bishop into an obvious trap, sits back and says, "Do you think we are the Master race?"

He looks up sharply, frowning at her with anger in his eyes. Her words were chosen deliberately and she knows he hasn't missed the implication behind them… If looks could kill… but she keeps calmly meeting his gaze, because she knows she's right.

Eventually he breaks the staring contest and looks down at the board. He makes his move. She makes a move in return.

Ten moves later he has her in checkmate.

In silence he lays out the pieces again. This game lasts precisely ten minutes. As she lays down her king he smiles politely at her and stands. "My apologies, my dear, but it's getting late and I have errands to attend to." She accepts his excuses and bids him good evening, pretending she isn't fully aware that, despite the outcome of the chess games, she had just won this round.

XXXXXX

The next time she walks through the park, he isn't there. And the next... In fact, it's another three weeks before she sees him again.

And, when she does, she's with David….

She spots him from a distance, but before she can turn and walk David out of the park he spots her and raises his hand in greeting. And, David sees. Of course David sees. Bloody Magneto had intended for David to see! And, now there's no way she can avoid introducing them. But the thought of introducing the man she's falling in love with to the man who still, even without his powers, haunts her nightmares and her students' nightmares… well, that thought twists her stomach into terrified knots.

David knows that something is wrong. It's clear in the way he raises a questioning eyebrow, in the way he slips a protective arm around her waist as they walk towards Erik Lehnsherr, that David is picking up on the worry she's trying to hide. She smiles at him and squeezes his hand to reassure him that's she's alright, even though she really isn't.

"Good afternoon, Miss Walker." Erik Lehnsherr stands to greet them politely as they approach. And is she just being paranoid or is there the briefest touch of shark-like smugness in the smile he offers them?

She smiles back with chilling politeness. As David is so keen to teasingly remind her, she _is_ English and in situations like this that means being completely, unfailingly, if somewhat coldly, polite. "Good Afternoon, Mr Lehnsherr. David, this is Erik Lehnsherr, an old friend of Professor Xavier's, you remember I told you about the Professor. Mr Lehnsherr this is David Taylor, a friend of mine." The arm David has around her waist makes it obvious that he's more than a friend but Magneto has clearly played this game of over-politeness before and makes no comment. She doesn't know whether David has played this game before, but he's good at picking up cues, and so he disengages his hand from around her waist and holds it out to Lehnsherr.

"Nice to meet you, Mr Lehnsherr."

They shake hands and exchange a few more pleasantries and then Natalie's phone rings. She frowns briefly in surprise before apologising and excusing herself to answer it. She takes a few steps away from the two men to answer the call, feeling somewhat - probably foolishly - nervous about moving even a few metres away from them. She suppresses a sigh as she sees that it's Ororo who's calling and somewhat bitterly she wonders what the kids have done this time.

A moment later she regrets that uncharitable thought.

"Say that again." Her words are quiet, but so sharp that they draw the attention of the two men making small talk nearby. She ignores them, because Storm cannot have just said what Natalie thinks she's just said, because they've been assured that the Cure is permanent, and a girl like Marie really should not have to go through this again.

"You're sure. I mean Rogue's sure. Yes, I appreciate that… But, there was nobody else around that could have caused it? Right… Have you spoken to Dr McCoy? Yes, I'm sure she's upset. Of course. I'll be back as soon as I ca…" She stops mid-word and all the colour drains out of her face as she turns and sees Erik Lehnsherr looking at her with a politely concerned frown on his face. Erik Lehnsherr. Magneto. Standing a mere metre away from David. Shit.

"Storm." She says the name slowly, trying to fight against the cold fear that's just grabbed her heart and squeezed. "I'm in the park with Magneto." There's silence on the other end of the phone for a very long moment. Natalie hears the unspoken 'What the hell are you doing in the park with Magneto?' but Storm has enough sense not to waste time with stupid questions. "I'll be there as soon as I can." Is what she says instead. Thank God.

Natalie fumbles the phone back into her handbag and tries to pull together some semblance of calm as she begins to move back towards the two men. She prepares herself to pretend nothing's wrong, but she's not taken more than two steps before she knows it's futile – Magento knows.

She sees the moment that he realises and the moment he realises that she knows that he knows; it all flickers across his eyes in a heartbeat.

In the next heartbeat there's a metal pawn in Magento's hand.

The heartbeat after that and the pawn is pressed against David's shirt, hovering there between his third and fourth ribs; right above his heart. It happens so fast that nobody else in the park has noticed anything amiss. Natalie is frozen with fear. David is staring down in shock at the small piece of metal resting so close to his vital organs. Magneto is just watching her, waiting for her to do something, say something. If there was space in her head to think she might realise that that is a little odd, as is the fact he's not smiling. If she'd thought about it at all she might have expected smugness, a sense of victory, from him in a situation like this, but he's oddly, almost grimly, calm.

Finally, she unfreezes enough to take another two steps forward. The pawn presses harder against David's chest. He sucks in a breath trying to move his skin away from the cold metal. Natalie stops moving. She feels her hands clench into fists by her side; the physical manifestation of the anger and fear that is now rolling off her in waves.

"What do you want?" She hisses.

Now, he smiles, but it's not smug or victorious, if anything it's slightly sad, almost regretful. He opens his mouth and says something, but she won't remember what.

In fact, she won't remember anything else until she and David wake up in a stolen car, three weeks later and 200 hundred miles away, by the side of a road in the middle of nowhere. There will be a band of metal wrapped around David's throat and Natalie will have one the worst headache she's ever had: it will feel like her skull is being split in two.

Neither of them will have any recollection of what happened after Magneto smiled.

XXXXXX

It will only be years later, after the world has gone to hell… when she has tears streaming down her face… when her throat is raw from screaming her grief to the world… when David's life blood is soaking into her clothes… when she finds herself drowning in grief and wishing with all her soul that she could go back and change things, that she could just stop this hell from happening. It will only be then, when she is knee deep in blood and mud and pain, that the walls in her mind will come crashing down and she'll finally remember what happened…

Seventeen days after that, with a single-mindedness honed by grief, she will succeed in tracking down Magneto.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

1962

It's times like these, when he's picking his way across a basement filled with semi-comatose heroin addicts, that Erik Lehnsherr wonders why he _really _decided to stay with the CIA when Charles Xavier asked him to. It can't have just been a desire for allies – there must be an easier way to find mutants capable of helping him destroy Shaw than this. Yes, he probably wouldn't be able to find mutants as quickly as Charles and Cerebo can if he was by himself, but at least he wouldn't have to put up with Charles' constant attempts to help mutants who are going to be of little or no use in their fight against Shaw. This one for example; they do not need another telepath – they have Charles – and there is no way a drug addled mutant is going to be an advantage. Unfortunately, one thing Erik has learnt about Charles over the last few weeks is that he can't resist trying to save people…

"Erik! I've found her!"

Erik breathes a sigh of relief; for the last few hours Charles has been fretting endlessly, insisting they drive faster, that they all but run down the streets, that they hurry, hurry, hurry, because damn it Erik, there isn't much time!

When he finally lays eyes on the mutant, Erik can suddenly appreciate Charles' desire for haste – she's barely breathing.

There's a deep frown creasing the young Professor's brow as he kneels beside the unconscious woman. He looks up as Erik approaches.

"We have to get her to a hospital. Now!"

2016

They've been driving for hours. The car is stolen and while David is the one in the driver's seat it's really Magneto who's controlling the vehicle.

He's also controlling David and Natalie, though in a slightly less direct fashion; there's a thin band of metal encircling David's throat. This morning that metal was a pawn on a chess board, now it's a hangman's noose around David's neck. It's a threat so clear that Magneto hasn't even had to voice it; if they do anything other than what he tells them to, he'll kill David.

The tension in the car is so thick that it's palpable even to those without the ability to sense emotions.

To Natalie, who _can_ sense emotions, it's enough to give her a migraine.

She reaches up to rub her forehead, to try and ease the bud of pain that's growing in her temple. When David notices he reaches over to where she's sat in the front passenger seat and squeezes her knee reassuringly. She forces a smile and taking his hand in her own she squeezes back.

She doesn't let go of his hand for the next two hours.

His other hand stays, somewhat pointlessly, on the steering wheel. He knows it's pointless; he's not driving and they've not seen anyone else for miles; there's nobody to notice that he's not the one in control of the car. But, it gives him at least some semblance of control in a situation where he knows his life (and Natalie's - though he suspects Magneto will only hurt her as a very last resort) hangs by a thread.

It's pitch black outside when the car finally stops. Natalie sits up with a start; she's spent the last fifty miles or so in a semi-doze, with David's thumb rubbing reassuring circles into her palm. They're miles from any kind of civilization, the only light outside comes from the Milky Way and the gibbous moon hanging low on the horizon.

And then Natalie realises that that isn't quite correct; there's a light up ahead shining golden, through the trees.

The car doors open without anyone touching them. Natalie and David share a brief look before turning to the man sat in the back seat. He raises an eyebrow at them and then steps out of the car. They share another look. David squeezes her hand again and then lets it go to exit the car. She follows, and the moment they're both free of the vehicle David slips an arm around her waist and pulls her protectively close to him – it won't do anything to defend either of them from Magneto, but it makes them both feel a little better.

In silence they follow Magneto up the dirt track towards the light blinking through the trees.

The light is coming from inside a small wooden cabin. It's stereotypical in its construction, right down to the little chimney on the roof with a wisp of smoke curling out of it. It's the sort of place that is shorthand for either homeliness or terror, depending on the sort of movie you're watching. Right now though it just feels odd, not creepy odd as such, but rather out of place; not where you'd expect to be taken after being kidnapped by a homicidal mutant supremacist.

Magneto walks up the shallow ramp that leads up to the front door. He opens the door with a wave of his hand and then stands there, one eyebrow cocked, waiting for them to enter the cabin ahead of him.

Natalie and David share another brief look. The hand around Natalie's waist tightens ever so slightly and then they walk through the door into the cabin.

Magneto shuts the door behind them, but Natalie doesn't notice. She doesn't notice the questioning look David is suddenly giving her or the way he tries to grasp her hand as she takes a step forward. She can't, all her focus is on the man sat in the wheelchair in the centre of the room.

1962

They manhandle the unconscious woman out onto the street. It shouldn't be this difficult; she barely weighs anything and Erik can lift her easily. But, Charles is insisting on making things difficult. The telepath has two fingers glued to the woman's skull and no matter how awkward it is for Erik he won't remove them. When Erik suggests it the young Professor just glares at him and mutters something about 'trying to find her before we lose her completely'.

Erik assumes it's some telepath thing and just concentrates on getting all three of them out of the basement in one piece.

The car the CIA gave them is parked several streets away. It's early afternoon and they get some curious looks from passers-by as they hurry along the pavements, but in this part of town it doesn't pay to get involved with other people's business, so nobody says anything or tries to stop them, they just watch. Watch, as two men carry a clearly unconscious woman down the street in broad daylight. The sheer apathy of so much of humanity angers Erik; they could be doing anything with this woman and yet nobody so much as queries what they're doing or asks if she needs help. He's not really surprised though, he saw the same apathy when the soldiers came knocking at the door of his parent's house – nobody spoke up then either.

"Erik, I'm losing her." Charles' voice, tight with fear, cuts through Erik's maudlin thoughts. He glances down at the woman in his arms, she's deathly pale now and her breathing is so shallow it's barely noticeable.

"We're almost there." Erik mutters, lengthening his stride and increasing his pace so that Charles has to half jog to keep up. The car is just around the corner and after a little effort they get her and Charles into the backseat. Charles' fingers are still pressed against her temple while he uses his other hand to prevent her from falling off the backseat.

"She's fading Erik, you need to hurry." He doesn't need to hear those words to appreciate the urgency that's needed; he can see how shallow her breathing is from here. So, he doesn't bother replying to Charles, just starts the car and sets about breaking as many traffic laws as he can without jolting his passengers.

Ten minutes later Erik pulls the car up outside the hospital.

2016

"Hello Natalie." The Professor says with a small smile.

For several long moments, she doesn't say anything. She just stands and stares, a shocked expression on her face. Then, finally…

"You're dead." The words are flat and emotionless; shock is preventing her from expressing anything more.

"Clearly not." Magneto's dry tone reminds her of the metal-bender's presence. Her head snaps around to glare at him and then a thought strikes her and she swivels back to study the man in the wheelchair. Her brow furrows into a deep frown and she studies the Professor intently.

And then she starts to unfurl her mind.

Empathy isn't the same as telepathy, not quite. But, they're similar; cousins of a sort. And while she can't read thoughts, she can read emotions and people are just made up of emotions; seething, rolling, masses of love and hate and anger and joy. Each personality is a unique cocktail shifting and changing as the world changes around them, but always at the centre there's something recognisable, something constant. She stretches out her senses towards the man claiming to be the Professor. A shape shifter might be able to fool the eye, but there's no way Mystique can fake someone's emotional signature, and especially not a signature that Natalie knows as well as she knows Professor Xavier's.

_It really is me, Natalie._

The voice in her head makes her start. She freezes in shock and for a long moment she can't move, can't even breathe and then she lets out a strangled sob, because Mystique can't fake that either – that presence in her head that is so familiar from her time studying with the Professor.

It really is him.

"How?" The question slips out before she even realises she's thought it. "You were… How are you not dead?"

"That's rather a long story." Professor Xavier says with a small smile.

"Rather longer than we have time for at the moment." Magneto cuts in, striding across the room to stand next to the Professor.

Natalie frowns at that, at the two men in front of her who look so _right_ standing next to each other (and doesn't that thought just feel odd in her head). Then she glances over at David who is standing to one side looking incredibly confused – even more confused than Natalie feels – and she remembers the fear of the last few hours and she feels a sudden surge of anger towards these two men.

"Why did you bring us here?" She asks coldly.

They don't look surprised at her anger, or the way she steps towards David as she speaks and slips her hand into his. Instead they share a brief look, before Magneto says, simply. "We require your assistance."

1962

It's organised chaos from the moment Erik enters the Emergency Room carrying the unconscious woman. The duty nurse is taking her pulse within seconds and moments after that several doctors come running down the corridor. Charles has finally removed his fingers from the woman's forehead and Erik suspects his friend is now putting his talents to other uses – doctors do _not_ normally appear that soon after a patient enters the ER.

And then she's being lifted out of Erik's arms, onto a gurney and wheeled away to a private ward, leaving the two mutants looking slightly lost as professionals bustle about their business.

The two men exchange a look and Charles' nods along the corridor in the direction of the waiting room. The telepath's fingers are now resting against his own temple, and Erik knows he'll be monitoring the woman's progress while they wait.

2016

"My assistance with what?" Natalie asks, curious despite herself.

"More your opinion, your advice," Professor Xavier elaborates, though his words just serve to confuse Natalie even more.

"My advice? What could you possibly need my advice for?" That comes out slightly more sharply than she intended, but she's genuinely surprised – between them these two men have more experience than her in pretty much everything – what could they possibly need her help with?

"There are certain problems one finds oneself too close to, too emotionally involved with." Magneto explains carefully. "We need a neutral observer as it were."

"A neutral observer for what?"

"For us," The Professor answers, "for the whole of our past."

1962

Erik can see the strain on Charles' face as he pulls up a chair beside the hospital bed and once again presses his fingers to the woman's forehead. He hasn't been able to do that for the last hour while the doctors and nurses swarmed around their unconscious patient, while machines and tubes popped up like ugly metallic mushrooms all around her, and not being able to help had set Charles pacing up and down the waiting room in a way that had quickly set Erik's nerves on edge.

The smell of antiseptic is everywhere and Erik is having to fight to keep down the memories that that smell brings back, but right now he can't succumb to those memories, right now he needs to hold it together because Charles so clearly isn't. It's unnerving to see the normally so composed young man fretting about someone he's never even met before. Unnerving and quite frankly baffling that the telepath can _care _this much about someone whose name he doesn't even know.

It's not that Erik doesn't care; doesn't want this nameless woman, this nameless mutant, to pull through and survive. He does. But, he's a realist; he knows that sometimes people die no matter how hard you try to save them.

2016

"Pardon?" That wasn't what Natalie was expecting them to say. If she's being honest she really had no idea what she expected them to say, but it certainly wasn't that.

"We need you to go through our memories, through our past." The Professor explains, fixing her with his piercing blue eyes. "We need you to find the point where it all went wrong."

"And the points where we could make it right." Magneto finishes.

Natalie just stares at them for several very long minutes. "Right," She says finally. "Why don't you start from the beginning and _actually_ explain to me what is going on?"

1962

Charles can feel her slipping away from him, slipping further and further into darkness. There's sweat beading on his brow from the effort it's taking to keep a grip on her mind, it's like trying to grasp water – it keeps slipping through his fingers.

It's like she doesn't want to be saved and that thought is incomprehensible to Charles. Incomprehensible and frustrating because there's no way he can save her if she doesn't try and help herself, and it's such a waste! She has such potential, could be so much more, could have so much to live for if she only tries. But she's giving up on life and damn it he can't help her if she gives up! He's not going to give up though, not going to stop trying, not until the very en…

He slumps back in the chair suddenly, his mind reeling. Then he looks up at Erik like a lost child.

"I've lost her. She's gone."


	3. Chapter Two

I'm going away for the weekend, so you're getting the next chapter a little early this week!

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. I know it can be very hard to think of things to write in a review, so in order to make things easier for my lovely reviewers I'm going to ask you a question this week: What do you think of Natalie? I'm very self-conscious about writing OCs and would very much like to get your opinions on how I'm doing with Natalie and David.

XXXXXX

**Chapter Two**

2016

"It has to be after Cuba." Natalie says the words firmly because she is expecting the rebellious looks she gets from the two older mutants. She knows she's right about this though. "It's too risky to try and change Cuba! Do you really want to give Shaw another chance to start a nuclear war?"

They know she's right, but they don't like it. After a long moment the Professor finally nods; he only looks mildly disappointed. "After Cuba." He agrees. Magneto continues to look defiant but allows them to turn the conversation to the events after Cuba.

They've been at this for nearly two weeks now; trying to work out the best way to change the past, to decide what point to send someone back to, the point where they can do the most good. There are old newspaper cuttings, covering the last five decades, and a huge timeline pinned up on the back wall of the cabin, all covered with handwritten notes. The first week had been spent almost entirely in the minds of Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr; in their memories, going over everything that ever happened to them, everything that made them the men they are today. And now they are going over everything Natalie saw, everything they showed her and working through the tangled web of action and consequence to find the turning points in their history.

Eight weeks ago Natalie had been curious about Magneto, now she knows everything about him and the Professor. She knows more than she ever wanted to know. She knows about the concentration camps, about Schmidt, she knows about Raven, about Oxford, about Agent McTaggert, about Argentina, about Miami, about the CIA and Westchester, about Dr McCoy and Alex and Sean and Angel and Darwin….

And, she knows about Cuba.

Good God, does she know about Cuba! She's lived it through both their eyes several times. They all know that it's the biggest turning point; that it's the moment when everything falls apart. Yes, there are other points where things could have been different, where they could have done things differently, but Cuba is the hinge on which the whole of their history hangs.

Change Cuba and you could change the world.

And that is the problem.

They want to change it, she knows that. She still doesn't understand how they think can change the past, but she knows they believe they can. And they both want to change Cuba so much that the desire to do so, the yearning to right that wrong, hangs heavy over the cabin. She understands, she really does – how could she not when she's lived both their lives. But, damn it, this is why they wanted a neutral observer and this neutral observer is adamant that they cannot change Cuba! It's far too risky.

"Food's ready."

David's voice from the doorway interrupts their conversation. And just the sound of his voice is enough to light Natalie up like a candle. She turns from their conversation and bounds across the room to bestow a kiss on the human's cheek. Behind her the Professor and Magneto share an indulgent smile at the young woman's actions; they can feel her love for this man, bright and fresh, bubbling out of her. Normally she's good at keeping her emotions tight to her chest, at not projecting them for the world to feel – thanks to the Professor's tutelage – but she feels so much for this man that it spills over – she's probably not even aware she's doing it, and neither of the two older mutants can bring themselves to ask her to stop.

As Natalie reaches up to press her lips against David's cheek her fingers brush against the metal encircling David's neck.

She'd almost forgotten about it.

Almost, but not quite.

David is aware of it the whole time, of course, how can he not be. And, whenever Natalie sees him she remembers it's there and feels a stab of fear, pain and anger deep in her gut. But, it's the bits in between that scare her more, the times when she gets so sucked into this problem the Professor has asked her to solve, that she forgets everything else. She forgets that the man she loves has a noose around his neck. She's always had an academic's tendency to get lost in her work, but that she can get so lost that she forgets something like that is unnerving.

They've not asked Magneto to remove it.

Natalie says he probably would if they asked him to. But, it's not a very confident 'probably' – decades of distrust of humans do not disappear overnight. And, Natalie's not ready for the argument that would ensue if that 'probably' turns out to be a 'no'. And then of course there's the conversation David overheard their second night here… the one he hasn't told Natalie about, the one she slept through – exhausted from her first day trawling through the Professor's memories. The one where the Professor asked Lehnsherr (David refuses to call him Magneto, much to the German's frustrated amusement) to remove the metal…

"I hardly think that's wise, Charles."

"Really Erik, what do you think he's going to do?"

"It's not him I'm worried about."

A pause, a silence that echoes loudly through the room.

"Natalie has agreed to help us." The Professor's voice is vaguely reproachful.

"She has for now but that's just because she finds it an interesting academic puzzle. It's not real to her. She doesn't believe it's actually possible to do what we're suggesting. The consequences of being able to change the past haven't sunk in yet. When they do she'll realise how much she has to lose."

"There's a lot to gain too."

"Not for her. Don't be naïve Charles. Changing our past will change her entire life. At the very least she'll never meet that human of hers. At the worst, she'll never be born."

There's a sigh from the Professor. "Which is why it will only be our last resort."

"I know, old friend. But, we have to be prepared for the worst."

At that point David had reached for the door handle to quietly close the door to the small bedroom he and Natalie were sharing. He'd placed his hand on the metal and felt it turn underneath his hand, pulling the door outwards instead of inwards. The door had opened just wide enough for David to see Lehnsherr's grimly amused face looking straight at him, before it had swung slowly back of its own accord and clicked shut.

When David had then climbed into bed next to the sleeping Natalie it had taken him a very long time to fall asleep.

XXXXXX

"Food's ready."

Dinner tonight is a chilli that David's thrown together from a tin of tomatoes, a pack of frozen mince and a surprisingly exhaustive collection of dried herbs and spices he'd found in one of the cupboards. When they'd first arrived there had been enough food for a month stuffed into the cabin's small kitchen. The fresh stuff had gone by the end of the first week, so now it's all tinned and frozen (there's a small freezer powered by an external generator). By default David has found himself taking up the role of cook and quartermaster while the mutants dissect the past. He doesn't mind too much, he's not a fantastic chef, but he's competent enough and it gives him something to do while the others sit in silence traipsing through the old men's heads or else jabber away about 'action and consequence' and 'temporal turning points' and events that are mostly unknown to David.

He has far too much time to think as it is.

By nature, David is a man of action, a doer, not a thinker like Natalie, and being stuck in this cabin with nothing to do but watch other people think is slowly driving him crazy. He's doing his best to hide it – he doesn't want to upset Natalie – but he's not sure how much more of this he can take. Natalie appears to be oblivious to his steadily growing cabin fever, which is unusual for the empath. Normally she's almost irritatingly aware of what he's feeling. But, she's hip-deep inside a problem to solve, and while he's only known her for a few months, he's known her long enough to know that when she has a puzzle to worry away at she's almost oblivious to the rest of the world. So, he shouldn't be too surprised that she's not picking up on his emotions at the moment… And then, of course, there's the sideways look he's been getting from the Professor every now and again, when he's been finding things particularly hard, a look that's far too knowing… When David notices those looks he remembers that Xavier is a telepath, and he starts to wonder whether the wily old man in the wheelchair is preventing Natalie from sensing his emotions…

If that's the case, David doesn't know whether to be angry or grateful.

Dinner conversation is somewhat less stilted than it was two weeks ago, but it's still not exactly what you'd call comfortable. For David's sake, they've ruled that the dinner table is a 'temporal turning point' free zone, which leaves the possible fields of conversation somewhat sparse. Current Human/Mutant relations are off the table ever since Lehnsherr tried to bait David about the anti-mutant riots earlier this year… the ones David had been on duty for… the ones where he'd first met Natalie (she'd offered the police her assistance in trying to calm the crowds).

The Professor had ended that particular conversation with a look and a quiet "Erik…"

The riots haven't come up since. Politics of a more general sort has similarly been avoided. And they've long ago caught the Professor up on the current status of most of his former students. Apart from that there isn't much to cover; after two weeks stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere the small talk starts to get a little repetitive.

Somehow the conversation has found its way back to Natalie's PhD thesis, a topic that's safe enough provided Lehnsherr keeps his opinions on evolutionary superiority to himself. At the moment Natalie and the Professor are discussing some obscure branch of evolutionary genetics in such academic detail that David can only follow about one word in ten. Lehnsherr looks like he's doing slightly better, managing perhaps one in three… The older man glances over at David and they find themselves sharing an amused smile at the two academics who are chattering on, oblivious to the rest of the world.

He's a strange one, Lehnsherr, David reflects as they start to clear away the dishes, leaving the other two to prattle on. The man is clearly dangerous and no fan of humans. He's more than capable of killing David in an instant – the band of metal nestled against David's Adam's apple attests to that. And yet, he's been nothing but polite to David, even when threatening or baiting him, the mutant has always been perfectly _civilized. _His affection for the Professor is clear to see, and he also seems to be quite fond of Natalie, in a tolerant Great Uncle sort of way. And, surprisingly, he doesn't seem to disapprove of David and Natalie's cross-species relationship. Though he doesn't exactly approve of it either, not in the way the Professor does; smiling at every display of affection as if each one vindicates his belief in the possibility of human-mutant cohabitation.

Frankly, David prefers Lehnsherr's tolerant disinterest.

Though really, he'd prefer to be away from both the old men entirely.

So, he cherishes the moments late in the evening, when he and Natalie are curled up in bed together, when it's just the two of them, away from the piercing gazes of the two older mutants.

Most nights they talk about inconsequential things, or else don't talk at all, but tonight David feels the need to address the elephant in the room - the fact that the two men sleeping just along the corridor want to go back in time and change history…

"It's not going to happen." Natalie assures him. "Going back in time is physically impossible. It violates the Principle of Causality."

"And being able to bend metal with your mind doesn't break Causality?" He asks somewhat caustically.

"No, it doesn't break Causality!" She replies with that tolerant, amused smile that comes out whenever he fails to completely grasp some advanced scientific concept – dammit he's a cop not an academic! "But, I get your point." She concedes. "It does rather upset Maxwell's electromagnetic equations… Still, time travel? Do you really believe it's possible?"

David shrugs, not reassured by the sudden uncertainty in her voice. "I don't know." He says. "But, they believe it is."

XXXXXX

A week later the four occupants of the cabin stand staring at the huge timeline plastered across the back wall of the cabin. It has been cleared of everything apart from half a dozen post-it notes marking the best points from which to change the past.

At Natalie's insistence, none of the post-it's are located before Cuba.

"What now?" David asks when the silence becomes too much to bear.

"Now, we go back to our lives and hope that these three weeks have been spent in a pointless mental exercise." Magneto says dryly.

"Back to our lives?" David asks incredulously. "As far as the rest of the world is concerned you're a wanted terrorist and the Professor is dead! How do you expect us to explain where we've been for three weeks?"

"Can you really change the past?" Natalie blurts out the question before either the Professor or Magneto has a chance to address David's concerns.

"Yes." The Professor says the word so simply, so firmly, that Natalie much to her own distress can't help but believe him.

"Will you?"

"Hopefully it won't come to that."

"That's not really an answer, Professor."

"It's the only one I have I'm afraid. I hope it won't be necessary, but I fear there is a storm coming, and it's best to be prepared."

Natalie looks at the two older men for a long moment before she says, very carefully. "When you make that decision, be sure that it really _is_ necessary. You both want to change the past too much to be able to make that choice completely objectively."

The Professor nods slowly, neither he nor Magneto appears offended at her frankness. "We'll bear that in mind." He assures her. "Now, as David pointed out the world thinks I'm dead and needs to continue to believe that for a while longer. So, I apologise, but I'm going to have to wipe your memory of the last few weeks." David and Natalie share an uncertain look but neither of them can summon a convincing counter-argument to the mind-wipe.

XXXXXX

So, they wake up hours later and several miles away wondering what the hell happened after Magneto smiled in that park.

XXXXXX

1962

Charles sits up suddenly, his face a strange mixture of confused and hopeful. He leans forward across the bed of the woman he's just declared brain dead and presses his fingers to her forehead once more. He stays like that until his frown slowly eases into a disbelieving smile. Then he releases his grip and leans back into his chair. For a long moment he just stares at the unconscious woman and then finally he looks up at Erik who is raising a questioning eyebrow at him.

"I don't understand it…" Charles says quietly, in answer his friend's unspoken question. He glances back at the woman in the hospital bed. "She was gone, but now she isn't..."


	4. Chapter Three

Thank you very much to everyone who has reviewed this fic so far, I really do appreciate it!

G : Thank you for taking the time to leave a review! I'm glad you found the prologue atmospheric and that you like Natalie. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Lou: Thank you very much for leaving such a detailed review. I'm glad you think David and Natalie fit well into the story. I'm normally don't like OCs either, which was why I was nervous about writing them. But, I'm glad you think they're working well. Please don't worry about the length of the fic and me potentially abandoning this fic partway through: I have the whole thing pretty much written, there's just some final touches that need to be put on the last few chapters (the reason I'm only posting a chapter a week to give myself and my beta time to finish the proof-reading and editting). I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

This week's question: In this chapter (and the next) things follow some of the events of First Class quite closely, and because some scenes are almost identical to those in the movie, I've tried to avoid reproducing them in full and tried to more fill in the gaps between the scenes we see in the movie rather than just repeating things verbatim. I've tried to balance not boring you with scenes you've already seen with not making things too confusing (especially if it's been awhile since you saw the movie). So, do you think I've managed to get the balance about right?

P.S.

Apparently Oliver Platt's character in First Class is only known as 'Man in Black Suit'. If anyone knows his actual name please let me know. For now I have called him Agent Babish, after Oliver Platt's character in The West Wing

And now, on with the chapter...

XXXXXX

**Chapter Three**

"She's feels different, but she's definitely there." Charles elaborates. When he'd dived into her mind just now it had been a swirling turbulent mess. Like a still pond that's been disturbed by a storm; all the stirred up silt had made it difficult to see. He'd tried his best though, swimming against currents that weren't there the previous times he was in her head, battling eddies and vortexes that swirl in the sands of her consciousness – it was an effort not to drown himself, let alone save her as well. Eventually, very reluctantly, he'd had to retreat, crawl back into his own head and hope that she can win through by herself, because clearly she is fighting now, fighting like she wasn't fighting before and Charles has no idea what's changed but he's grateful that it _has_ changed. He wants to help her, but it's too dangerous for him to be in her mind right now. All he can do is sit back, watch, wait and hope she wakes up.

She doesn't wake up that evening.

She doesn't wake up for another five days.

They move her to the CIA facility halfway through the second day.

Towards the end of the third day Moira succeeds in tracking down the woman's identity. Her name is Courtney Stevens; she dropped out of high-school when she was 16 after she'd reported hearing voices in her head, six months after that she'd run away from her home just outside Philadelphia and made her way to New York. She'd managed to keep her head above water for a year or two before a series of arrests for petty theft and possession bear witness to a steady descent that ended with her overdosing in a near derelict basement.

It's hardly a surprising story, considering where they found her, but maybe Charles is rubbing off on Erik because somewhat against his better judgement the German finds himself obscenely glad they found her when they did and what's more, slightly regretful, maybe even guilty, that they didn't get to her sooner.

Throughout the five days she's unconscious, there's always someone at Courtney's bedside. Most of the time it's Charles, who keeps trying to use his talents to pull her back to consciousness, but even genius telepaths need to sleep some time. So, when he's gone Raven or Erik take over and sometimes Moira stops by for a bit… Or Dr Hank McCoy comes in and reads the notes written by the actual medical doctors who are tending Courtney… Or Alex Summers will hover in the doorway – not quite sure what to do with himself now that he's out of prison. Erik and Charles' other recruits have homes and families and things to sort out before they can pack up and leave for a secret CIA facility, but Alex… Alex has nowhere else to be. So, here he is hovering in the doorway looking into a room containing an apparently comatose young woman and a rather intimidating German mutant.

Erik is sat in the chair besides the hospital bed, flicking through a series of confidential CIA files with a frown on his face. The man hasn't acknowledged his presence but Alex knows that the older man knows he's there; the metal-bender is a soldier, a fighter – and a good one – he knows when someone enters a room. Apart from that titbit, that observation, the German is something of an enigma and Alex finds himself spending more time watching him than watching Courtney (who quite frankly looks no different to the last two times he dropped by). So, when he glances over at Courtney to find deep brown eyes staring at him over an oxygen mask, he has no idea how long she's been awake for.

"Erik," He croaks out the name after a moment of surprise. The man glances up at him and Alex nods towards the previously unconscious woman. Erik follows his gaze and sits up straighter as he notices she's awake. The brown eyes on the hospital bed are groggy and unfocused but they crease into a frown when they come to rest on Erik. Then Alex feels a sharp pang of confusion and fear that he knows aren't his own. Erik lays aside his papers and leans over to reassure Courtney.

"You're among friends."

It doesn't have the desired effect. The undercurrent of emotion permeating the room spikes and grows into something quickly approaching panic as the woman's eyes dart between Erik and Alex.

"Get Charles." It's an order, short and sharp, and Alex finds himself obeying without thinking, hurtling along the corridors to the sleeping quarters assigned to Charles Xavier.

He hasn't even reached the door when it opens and a sleep-tousled Charles emerges, pulling on a robe over his sweatpants and t-shirt. "I know." He says before Alex has a chance to even open his mouth and then he's off down the corridor towards the infirmary and Alex has to run to keep up.

The moment Charles enters the room the rolling, seething, sea of emotion immediately vanishes and Alex finds himself letting out a small sigh of relief. Then he sees the frown on Charles Xavier's face and the look of pure shock in the brown eyes on the bed as they stare at the telepath and Alex can't help but wonder what the hell is going on…

Charles is wondering the same thing. The fear and confusion he understands - waking up in a strange place will do that to you – but why Courtney should react so strongly to Charles' arrival is baffling... The sudden absence of emotion, after the swirling tempest that filled the room just moments ago, is disconcerting… almost as disconcerting as the voice that suddenly appears in his head, groggy but insistent…

_What date is it?_

He's so surprised, he answers… _9__th__ October 1962… _before the thought catches up with him that that is a slightly odd question for someone to ask immediately after waking up in an unfamiliar place – 'where am I?' is more traditional, or even 'who are you?'

There's a deafening mental silence for a long moment and then he catches the briefest… _shit…_ before mental walls slam up so quickly that Charles is left reeling at the sudden disappearance of her presence.

When he blinks and looks down at the hospital bed he sees that Courtney's eyes have once again closed (though he's not convinced she's actually asleep). He frowns and then looks over at Erik who is sporting a raised eyebrow and a mildly perplexed expression.

"What the hell was that about?" The German asks.

"I've no idea." Is the only reply Charles has.

XXXXXX

The next week is an interesting experience for all of them.

Courtney drifts in and of consciousness for a day or two, but the doctors now consider her to be out of immediate danger, which is reassuring. What is less reassuring is the fact that during those two days, whenever Charles enters the infirmary, if she's not actually unconscious, she's feigning unconsciousness. Charles finds it easy enough to tell the difference between when she's really asleep and when she's faking, but what he finds much harder is persuading her to stop pretending.

He doesn't know why she's doing it, but she's clearly avoiding him and Erik, at least as best she can considering she's confined to a hospital bed. As for the rest of their merry band; she avoids anything more than the briefest contact with Hank and Raven, but seems to tolerate Moira and Alex, though she still hasn't said a word to anyone apart from her doctor and the nurses looking after her. It's all rather baffling.

It's amazing what you get used to though; when Charles enters the infirmary to check on her, after an unsuccessful recruiting mission, he is genuinely surprised to find her awake.

Awake and on the floor vomiting.

Shock stalls him for a moment and then he's down on the floor next to her, holding her hair back from her face as she throws up all over the floor. Pressing his hand against her forehead reveals the fact she's sweating and shaking like mad, which has him no end of concerned. The mental message he sends out to her doctor is not panicked… not quite… But, he's nonetheless relieved when moments later the doctor comes hurrying into the room.

"Ah," The doctor says taking in the sight of the young woman vomiting up the sparse contents of her stomach. "I was wondering when that would start."

"What?" Charles demands; shocked by how casual the doctor's tone is.

"Withdrawal symptoms," The doctor explains, as he presses a buzzer to summon the nurses. "We'll get her on an IV drip and get her as comfortable as we can, but she's going to have to wait the worst of it out I'm afraid."

It turns out a telepath going through withdrawal symptoms in not a pleasant experience for anyone in the vicinity of said telepath. In fairness to her, Courtney does her best to keep her distress to herself and not project it all over the base, and she does a pretty good job of keeping the danger zone down to a mere 15 foot radius around her hospital bed. But, Charles is sure he could help her get it even smaller if she would just let him help her, but every time he goes anywhere near her mind she starts screaming in his head until he gets out.

Charles finds not being allowed to help frustrating. Erik finds it amusing.

"Really Charles, you can't blame someone for not wanting you in their head."

"But I could help her!" Charles insists pausing in his pacing long enough to move his castle across the chessboard they've set up in Charles' quarters.

"Yes, but you could also hurt her." Erik leans across the papers he's reading and moves his knight to take one of Charles' pawns.

Charles is unsurprisingly outraged by that insinuation. "I would never…"

Erik interrupts with a placating gesture. "I know that and you know that, but she doesn't." It's frustrating, Charles claims to have experienced Erik's pain, seen the things Erik has lived through, but he still doesn't _understand.._. "Not everyone is like you Charles. The world is full of people ready to hurt you if you give them a chance; often it's prudent to assume the worst of people's intentions."

The knowing look Charles gives him at that point makes it clear that he knows Erik isn't just talking about Courtney. The telepath finally stops pacing and sits down across the chessboard from Erik.

"What did you think my intentions were when I jumped in after you in Miami?" He asks while studying the chessboard in front of them.

"I thought you were a mad man who had nothing better to do with his time." It's a flippant, dismissive answer to a serious question, but Charles lets it slide; he's learnt when not to push Erik.

"And now?" Charles asks, moving his queen. He smiles, already anticipating Erik's reply.

"I still think you're a mad man with nothing better to do." Erik says, with a smile that says he knows it is exactly what Charles expected him to say, but really if the telepath is going to give him an opening like that, what else does he expect?

The gentle banter eases the tension in Charles' shoulders, and they settle down to finish their chess game in companionable silence.

XXXXXX

They don't make it to the end of the game.

Charles is about five moves away from having Erik in checkmate (at least that's what Charles thinks…) when they're interrupted by Raven knocking on the door to tell them that the rest of their recruits have arrived. She's bouncing on her heels with excitement at the chance to meet more people like them. It's a feeling Charles understands all too well, he feels it every time he puts on Cerebro, that giddy feeling of belonging, of being a part of something bigger than himself. Erik looks tolerantly amused at their excitement, but Charles knows the German shares their joy, their relief, at finding other like them… at not being alone.

Alex is waiting with the other new recruits in the building's atrium. They stand in a small huddle, rucksacks and suitcases lying on the floor beside them as CIA agents bustle about their business. Charles may be imagining things, but there seem to be more people around than usual, and certainly more people pausing in their passage through the atrium –but then curiosity is a natural human vice.

"Moira and Agent Babish have a meeting with Director McCone." Alex informs the two older men as they approach. The two agents had stopped briefly on their way to the meeting, to greet the new recruits.

Erik and Charles exchange a look, wondering what that is about; there's been a lot of chatter recently about Shaw and the Russians. A meeting with the director of the CIA suggests something big has come up. Charles is sure that if that is the case then Moira will let them know when she gets back. For now, they have a bunch of wide eyed new recruits to show around.

They start the tour with the quarters that have been set aside for the mutants (so everyone can drop off their luggage). Then, Raven insists they go and find Hank so they can introduce him to the new recruits. Her smile is enough to tear him away from whatever project he is currently working on and he accompanies them on the rest of the tour.

Charles isn't imagining the way agents stop and stare as the group passes them in the corridor; the whispers that follow them around the building. There's been a certain amount of it ever since they arrived – their mutations are infinitely interesting to those without powers. Still, Charles can sense the discomfort the whispers are causing the young mutants, especially Angel. So, part way through the tour Charles starts using his power to nudge people on their way, or else not notice the mutants as they walk past. After the third agent passes them by without even glancing at them Erik gives him a look which says he knows exactly what the telepath is doing. Charles can't work out whether his friend approves or disapproves though –sometimes the German is completely unreadable, even for someone with Charles's powers.

Hank is enthusiastically explaining how Cerebro works when Charles leans over to Erik to inform him quietly that; "Moira's back."

The German turns to him, his body suddenly tensed like a coiled spring. "Have they found him?" He asks just as quietly –the kids don't need to hear this yet.

"I think so," Charles frowns slightly. "She wants to speak to both of us straight away. Raven," he leans over to his sister, who is stood on his other side watching Hank talk with the intensity of a young woman contemplating developing a full blown crush. "Would you mind finishing off the tour? Erik and I need to speak to Moira."

Raven gives them a quizzical look which turns into a slight pout when they don't elaborate, but she nods. "Sure. I'll take them to meet Courtney."

Charles frowns, not sure that's necessarily the best idea. Cocking his head to one side he reaches his mind out towards Courtney. He winces at her mental reply. "She'd rather you didn't." He tells Raven who snorts at the look of discomfort on Charles's face.

"She needs to stop sulking." Raven says firmly. "It'll do her good to meet other people like us."

Charles sighs and reaches up a hand to rub his forehead – when Raven gets an idea into her head she can be irritatingly stubborn about it. "She nearly died less than two weeks ago and has spent most of the last week throwing up – she's hardly sulking!"

Raven just gives him a look. Charles makes one last attempt to dissuade her. "Please Raven; don't push her until she's ready."

"Aren't you supposed to be talking with Moira?" She asks sweetly, completely ignoring Charles' appeal. He gives up. Courtney is quite capable of kicking Raven out of her hospital room if she wants to; she's driven Charles out of her mind enough times to prove that.

When Erik and Charles have left to find Moira, and Hank has finished his long winded explanation of Cerebro, Raven bounds forward and beams at the new recruits. "Almost done," she assures them. "We'll just visit Courtney, and then we'll show you the den!" She ignores the frowns that appear on Alex and Hank's faces. They've all been avoiding Courtney for days, and with good reason -at the moment the telepath is projecting her discomfort (both mental and physical) to everyone in her immediate vicinity. But, according to Courtney's doctor (who has been braving Courtney's second hand pain on a regular basis) her symptoms are tailing off now and she should be through the worst of it in the next day or so.

Anyway, Raven isn't convinced that Courtney hasn't been deliberately projecting to keep the rest of them away -the woman has been avoiding the other mutants ever since she woke up, and Raven has had enough of it.

"This is the infirmary." Raven says leading them all down the corridor towards the room where Courtney is currently bed bound. The normal telepathic storm is little more than a light drizzle at the moment - Courtney must be improving. Still, it's disconcerting if you're not used to it.

"What is that?" Darwin asks rubbing the back of his neck, trying to dispel the uncomfortable feeling of Courtney's mental storm; like a pressure headache the telepathic weather can cause the feeling of physical discomfort.

"Courtney is a telepath." Hank explains. "She's not been feeling well, and she tends to project her discomfort. She doesn't mean to, but sometimes she can't help it."

Raven snorts. "Charles could help her if she would just let him into her head!" She says dismissively as they reach the open door to Courtney's room.

"It's my head. I can choose who I let in it."

Raven starts; those are the first words she's heard Courtney speak aloud. The telepath is sat up on the hospital bed, cross legged and looking like death warmed up - which quite frankly is better than she's looked for most of the last two weeks.

"You're feeling better then?" Alex observes with a slight hint of surprise in his voice.

Courtney just glares at them.

"What are you doing here?" She asks bluntly.

"We wanted to introduce you to the rest of our new mutant team." Raven says sweetly, ignoring the unpleasant looks Courtney is giving her. "Courtney, this is Darwin, and Angel, and Sean. Everyone, this is Courtney!"

"Hello." Courtney says with a half-hearted wave and no smile.

She turns to Raven. "Right, you've introduced me. Now, would you mind sodding off so I can finish vomiting my guts up in peace?"

Raven considers even that terse conversation to be a victory - it certainly more than either Erik or Charles have got out of the reticent young woman.

To make up for the somewhat grumpy conversation with Courtney, Raven takes the new recruits to the room Alex and her have affectionately nicknamed 'The Den'. Agent Babish had suggested they set up somewhere for the young mutants to feel comfortable during their stay in the CIA base. Moira had handed the task of kitting out the room to Alex and Raven, only vetoing their more extreme ideas (apparently the CIA budget doesn't stretch to a top-of-the-range Wirlitzer jukebox, though they did manage to wrangle the pinball machine…)

Exclamations of "Wow!" and "Cool!" accompany their arrival at the den, and Raven shares as smug look with Alex as she suggests that they all grab a drink and take a seat.

"So," Raven says after a few moments of awkward silence. "We should think of codenames. We're government agents now; we should have secret codenames…"

XXXXXX

"The plane leaves for Russia in an hour." Moira finishes as they turn the corner.

"I'm telling you, these kids are not ready for Shaw." Erik insists.

"I think they're going to surprise you. They're an exceptional bunch of young people." Erik isn't sure whether Charles is seriously over-estimating the capability of these kids, or seriously under-estimating Shaw. Both are equally dangerous and liable to get one of them killed.

They turn another corner and enter the courtyard to find a headless, smoking, statue and the grass covered in broken glass. Exceptional young people indeed…

"What the Hell…" Moira exclaims.

As they cross the courtyard, Charles' 'exceptional young people' come into view, dancing and laughing amongst the debris. Erik feels a pang of relief at the sight; at least now Charles won't insist on taking such woefully unprepared children into battle against Shaw.

"What are you doing?" Moira demands in a tone as authoritative as any drill sergeant. The kids turn to look at her, their faces taking on expressions in various shades of guilt. "Who destroyed the statute?"

"It was Alex."

"No, Havoc… we have to call him Havoc now!" Raven insists, "And, we were thinking, you should be Professor X," she points at her brother before turning to Erik, "And you, you should be Magneto!"

"Exceptional…" Erik says before turning to leave. There really is nothing else to say. Moira follows him and Charles is only a few paces behind.

"I expect more from you." Charles' disappointment cuts through Raven's smile.

Erik doesn't say 'I told you so' as they head towards the plane that will take them to Russia, that would just be cruel. But, he can't help thinking, as they strap themselves in, that there are worse codenames than Magneto…


	5. Chapter Four

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited or followed this story!

This week's question is sort of the same as last week's: Do you like the 'missing scenes' I've written?

XXXXXX

**Chapter Four**

It's on the flight back from Russia, with Miss Frost safely contained in the plane's hold, that Moira finds out about the attack on the CIA facility. She feels the bottom drop out of her stomach as the news is relayed to her over the radio. Then, she yells Charles' name as loudly as she can in her head, hoping the telepath will pick it up.

Moments later Charles' head pops around the door to the cockpit. "What's the problem?" He asks, worried by the urgency in Moira's mental shout.

"Shaw attacked the base while we were gone."

"What?" Erik demands; appearing from behind Charles.

"Is Raven alright?" Charles' normally calm voice is strained with barely suppressed panic.

"I'm sorry," Moira says helplessly. "I'm only just getting this. They don't have much information yet."

Charles leans against the side of the cockpit, closes his eyes and presses his fingers against his forehead. Erik reaches over to stabilise him as the plane rocks through some turbulence. The minutes stretch by as Moira and Erik watch and wait in anxious anticipation.

"Darwin's dead."

The words drop into the silence of the cockpit.

"Angel has gone with Shaw." Charles opens his eyes. "The rest are alright."

There's a long heavy silence in response to that news, broken only by the creaking of metal.

"Erik, that's not helping." Charles says quietly and the creaking stops. Erik blinks and unclenches his fists.

"We should never have dragged them into this." The German's voice is tight with fury and grief. For all that he pretends to be unfeeling; Erik considers himself as responsible for those young mutants as Charles does.

"No, we shouldn't have." Charles agrees. "Moira, I need you to arrange transport for them to be taken home as soon as possible."

XXXXXX

When they arrive at the ruins of the CIA base the first thing Charles does is embrace his sister; to reassure himself that she's alive and well, if a little shaken.

"We've made arrangements for you to be taken home immediately." Charles informs them - Moira had spent the rest of the flight pulling strings; making calls to McCone and anyone else she needed to, to make sure they can be taken back home as quickly and safely as possible.

"We're not going home." Sean says firmly.

"What?" Charles asks, surprised by the determination in Sean's voice. Erik is not.

"He's not going back to prison." Sean adds nodding towards Alex.

"He killed Darwin." Alex says, as if that one statement explains everything: maybe it does.

"All the more reason for you to leave. This is over." Why is it only now that Charles realises how dangerous this fight against Shaw is? Erik did try to warn him…

"Darwin's dead, Charles. And we can't even bury him." Charles finds it harder to answer the grief in his sister's voice. Erik speaks before he has a chance to form a reply.

"We can avenge him." They all turn to look at the metal-bender.

"Erik, a word, please."

As Charles takes him aside Erik notes, ironically, how in the space of 48 hours they've managed to switch sides in this argument.

"They're just kids." Which was Erik's argument against taking them to Russia... But, childhood is the land where nobody dies and when they saw Darwin killed these young people left that land.

"No. They were kids." Erik tells him. "Shaw has his army. We need ours."

Charles turns back to look at the four expectant faces watching him and Erik. "We'll have to train." He says, reluctantly conceding to Erik's argument and the pleading in those faces. "All of us. Yes?"

"Yeah." Alex answers for all of them.

"Well, we can't stay here." Hank points out. "Even if they reopen the department, it's not safe. We've got nowhere to go."

"Yes, we do." Charles says. Erik raises a curious eyebrow, while Raven's face breaks into a genuine smile as she realises what her brother means.

"Moira, could you requisition us some transport, please?" Now that Charles has made the decision to train the children, he knows that there isn't any time to waste: they're going to be hard-pressed as it is. "If anyone has anything they need to take with them, they'd better get it now, the sooner we get going the better."

Charles is about to start issuing more instructions when Erik speaks up – he's just noticed something. "Where's Courtney?"

XXXXXX

Charles and Erik make their way through the ruins of the CIA facility towards the part of the complex where the infirmary used to be. Most of the bodies have been removed by now, but there's still a few visible, buried under rubble that hasn't been cleared yet. Soldiers and CIA agents swarm all over the place but none of them do anything to stop the mutants' progress across the base; whether that's because they all know who Erik and Charles are, or because Charles is using his powers to stop people asking them irritating questions, Erik couldn't say.

The corridor where the infirmary used to be is relatively undamaged and completely deserted. They pick their way across the rubble and make their way past another body that hasn't been moved yet. As they approach they can see that the door to the infirmary is ajar. Erik reaches it first and steps through into the dimly lit room. He hasn't even taken half a step into the room when he turns around and announces, "She's not here."

"Really?" Charles asks with an expression somewhere between a frown and a smile. "You haven't even looked yet."

Erik frowns and turns back to look into the infirmary again. Charles joins him in the doorway, and the two mutants survey the room. Sunlight filters in through the dust covered windows, lending an almost serene quality to the room. At first glance it does indeed appear that Courtney isn't here; the bed is empty, medical equipment is strewn across the floor and several machines appear to have been broken. Charles' instinct is to walk away and search somewhere else… Except, he's not sure it is his instinct… The desire to walk away, to be somewhere else, is just too strong to be natural…

_Courtney, it's me, Charles. You're safe now. They've gone._

At first nothing happens, but he repeats his telepathic reassurances and this time sends out mental waves of _calm _and _safe._

After a moment his eyes are drawn towards the far corner of the room, to an over turned gurney. He steps carefully across the room, leaving a bemused Erik standing in the doorway. Carefully, he moves aside the gurney to reveal three terrified faces: Courtney, her doctor and one of the nurses.

There are tears pouring down Courtney's face and she's trembling so hard she's having trouble breathing. Charles kneels down in front of them. "It's alright, they've gone now." The telepath's quiet words seem to break the tension in the room. Both the doctor and the nurse give a little sigh of relief. Courtney's trembling increases and her silent tears become gasping sobs as the earlier tension drains out of her. The nurse curls a protective hand over Courtney's brow and Charles realises that the woman is cradling Courtney against her chest, has been all along.

The doctor stands and starts searching the wreckage of the infirmary for something. After a moment he finds a vial and syringe. A movement from Erik in the doorway draws all their attention.

The doctor correctly interprets the gesture. "It's just a sedative." He assures the mutant. Erik doesn't look convinced. "She saved my life: I'm not going to hurt her."

"It's fine Erik." Charles's reassurance carries more weight than the doctor's; after a moment Erik gives the briefest of half nods and the doctor continues his journey back across the room towards the two women. He administers the sedative in silence and a few moments later Courtney's trembling starts to subside, and her breathing even out.

"Thank you." Charles says to the doctor who nods briefly, without taking his eyes off his patient –it's the least he can do.

In the near silent infirmary the sound of Erik's footsteps, as he crosses the room, echo loudly. As he bends down to pick up the now unconscious Courtney the doctor asks, "Where are you taking her?"

"Somewhere safe," is Charles's only reply and after a long look the doctor accepts his answer with a brief nod.

Erik straightens up, his arms full of skinny, undernourished, mutant. As they turn to leave the nurse speaks up for the first time. "She can read minds..." Charles isn't sure whether it is a question or a statement.

"Yes."

The nurse nods. "How many people died in the attack?"

"I don't know."

"She does," the nurse says indicating the unconscious woman. "She felt every death."

Charles and Erik share a look over Courtney's unconscious head. "We'll look after her." Charles assures them.

"You'd better." The nurse replies, "or you'll have me to answer to."

XXXXXX

When Charles and Erik emerge from the ruins of the CIA facility, carrying Courtney's limp form, Moira's first thought is; 'Oh God, not her too.'

She hurries over to meet them. Raven and the other mutants beat her there, and as Moira approaches she hears Charles reassure everyone: "Courtney's fine, she's just sedated." One of the many knots in Moira's stomach unfurls at those words – they've lost too many people already today. Erik carries Courtney and Charles explains where the found the telepath, about the doctor and nurse she saved from Shaw's mutants, as Moira shepherds everyone towards the jeep she's manages to commandeer for their journey to wherever it is that Charles is planning on taking them.

It's a long journey. Though, it feels much longer than it actually is.

Erik drives and Charles sits up front with him to navigate. Moira, on the other hand, sits in the back with the children (who aren't really children anymore). Raven takes a seat on the floor, with Courtney's sleeping head cushioned in her lap. Moira sits on the floor besides them, to keep an eye on the sleeping woman's pulse. The boys perch on the benches running along each side of the vehicle, staring at their hands… or the floor… or at the crates of equipment Hank insisted they couldn't leave without… anywhere other than at each other.

They travel in silence for the most part, all of them lost in their own thoughts. Even the normally talkative Raven is quiet; she sits and stares at nothing, like the rest of them. Courtney sleeps for the entire journey, and as she watches the mutant's breath ease steadily in and out, Moira almost envies her: she seems peaceful for the first time since Charles and Erik brought her in. Whatever the doctor gave her, it's knocked her out completely – there's not even a hint of telepathic weather being projected by her subconscious.

Moira wishes her own thoughts would be as still as Courtney's appear to be. Her mind is racing, swirling with worries and plans and fears… the Russians… the CIA… Shaw… all facing off against each other, bringing the world to the edge of nuclear war. And then there's this little band of mutants; most of them are so young. And, those that aren't… well, Charles is so, so, optimistic, unreasonably so at times… and Erik… Erik is so unpredictable… the way he ran off by himself in Russia, and the way Charles ran after him… Well, it's not exactly the sort of behaviour that fills Moira with confidence in the likely success of their little team…

XXXXXX

When Charles directs Erik to turn into the gates to the Xavier Mansion, the German's eyebrows go through the roof. The huge iron gates are locked and, as Charles hops out of the jeep to unlock them, Erik finds himself going over everything he knows about his friend, every conversation they've ever had, and trying to work out how the fact that the Xaviers are wealthy enough to own a place with gates like this never came up!

When Charles gets back in the car (after Erik has driven through the gates and Charles has locked them behind him) he avoids meeting Erik's eyes. Erik looks at him for a long moment, leaning over the steering wheel and staring at him with disbelief and amusement and sheer surprise that the unassuming young professor had been hiding something this big. Yes, Erik had known that Charles came from a privileged background, but he hadn't realised it was _this_ privileged!

"Are you planning on just sitting there all evening?" Charles asks after a moment in a voice that pretends to be polite and amused but has more than a hint of tetchy around the edges. Erik gives an amused snort and starts the vehicle up the long, curving, driveway.

When the mansion finally comes into view Erik can't help the short, surprised, burst of laughter that escapes him. "Bloody hell, Charles!" The German mutters. Charles half-smiles in embarrassment and gives an awkward shrug – he's clearly not comfortable with the ostentatious display of brick and glass standing in front of them.

The exclamations of surprise from the others, as they emerge from the jeep and see the mansion for the first time, only serve to heighten Charles' discomfort. Though, he does a good job of hiding it – Erik wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been looking for it.

Awed silence descends on the group as they cluster together and stare up at the grand colossus of a building.

"This is yours?" Sean asks for all of them.

"No, it's ours." Charles says, quietly but firmly, as if underlining the past and declaring this a new chapter in the building's history.

"Honestly, Charles. I don't know how you survived, living in such hardship." The dry sarcasm in Erik's voice draws out another half embarrassed smile onto Charles face, the rest of which still looks more than a little uncomfortable

"Well, it was a hardship softened by me." Raven steps forward and slips her arm around her brother's waist. Charles presses a grateful kiss into her hair and then turns back to look at their childhood home. "Come on." Raven takes a deep breath. "Time for the tour!"

XXXXXX

Before they start the tour, they settle the still unconscious Courtney in one of the second floor bedrooms. Erik carries her inside and up the stairs, and then Moira and Raven change her into an old pair of Raven's pyjamas before tucking her into the ornate double bed. They leave a glass of water and a spare set of clothes that Moira remembered to grab from the CIA base before they left by the side of the bed for when she wakes up. Charles will keep a mental eye on her as they wander around the house – when she wakes up he'll know about it.

Raven leads them around the mansion, enthusiastically elaborating the tour with tales and anecdotes from their childhood – the good times anyway. If she's a little louder than usual, a little more boisterous, then maybe it's to keep everyone's attention on her and not on Charles. And, Charles is grateful, glad she's taking centre-stage right now, because it makes it easier to hide his unease at being back in this place. There are far too many memories here, not all of them bad – far from it – but there are enough, enough that he's been happy to avoid this place for years. Now though… well, now he hopes they can make some new memories for this place, better memories, maybe enough to drown out some of the old ones…

Once the tour finishes they find themselves in the kitchen, with the realisation that the only food they have on hand are the army rations Moira managed to pillage before they left the base, and the contents of a larder that hasn't been replenished in the better part of a decade. Charles puts in a phone call to the local milkman, and arranges for fresh supplies to be delivered in the morning, but that won't help them this evening…

It's going to be an interesting dinner.

Still, Erik can say with certainty that whatever they manage to pull together it will be better than some of the things he's eaten in his lifetime. He keeps that thought to himself though; whenever he says something like that, some offhand remark that could refer to his time in the camps; there's this look that appears on Charles' face. It's a look that's a little too close to pity for Erik's comfort, but not actually close enough to it for Erik to get angry at his friend.

He's never really had the time or the inclination to learn how to cook anything more than a few basics (and in all honesty the whole idea of cooking reminds him too much of his mother), so Erik takes a back seat to the culinary proceedings. He pulls up a chair at the heavy wooden table and sits and watches the barely organised chaos of five mutants and a CIA agent trying to scrounge up a meal from a few tin cans and a selection of herbs that are so old they look like they were dried in prehistory.

It makes for entertaining viewing, as people dart backwards and forwards across the room. Their efforts are clearly hampered by the classic problem of too many chefs, and the periodic wooden spoon fights that break out between Raven and Alex and Sean, yet somehow, against the odds, they seem to be making progress. The haphazard domesticity of it all is rather charming, but also vaguely terrifying to a man, like Erik, who can barely remember what having a family feels like.

Maybe it's that uncharacteristic pang of nostalgia that draws Charles attention to Erik: to the fact he's not been helping with the cooking, which is apparently something approaching a cardinal sin. "If you're not going to help cook, you could at least set the table!"

Erik smirks and with a wave of his hand opens a drawer at the other end of the kitchen and starts levitating cutlery across the room. Charles rolls his eyes, while the children laugh in delight at the flying cutlery. "You're not going to be able to manage the crockery like that." The telepath points out somewhat smugly.

"Maybe Courtney could help with the crockery." Moira says pointedly, and Erik almost drops the cutlery in surprise as they all turn to see Courtney standing in the doorway, looking rather uncomfortable at the sudden attention. The t-shirt and sweatpants that Raven leant her swamp her skinny frame (and Raven's not exactly what you would call large) and her long brown hair is still rather unkempt, though she's clearly made an attempt to ease out the worst of the tangles. But, what strikes Erik the most are her eyes: they look more awake, more alert than he's seen them before.

Courtney shifts uneasily and stuffs her hands in her trouser pockets. "Where are the plates?" She asks quietly, when nobody seems inclined to stop staring at her. Erik and Moira frown slightly, but nobody else notices anything odd. Raven just points at one of the cupboards; "In there," she says "glasses are two cupboards over." And, then everyone goes back to what they were doing before. Everyone, except Erik and Moira, who do go back to what they were doing, but also continue to watch Courtney out of the corners of their eyes.

Fifteen minutes later they all sit down at the table with something that looks almost, but not quite, edible. It's been too long a day to be fussy though, and thankfully it does actually taste better than it looks, though it's a long way from gourmet cooking. Still, good company can make up for a lot, and as the conversation rolls on about anything and everything (apart from what happened with Shaw at the CIA base or what happened in Russia with Miss Frost), Erik finds himself relaxing just a little, enjoying the company of other people like him.

XXXXXX

"This is quite the place you have here, Charles." Erik says later that evening as the young Xavier shows him into a lavishly decorated study.

Charles makes a non-committal sound in the back of his throat as he starts throwing back dust covers to reveal a pair of richly upholstered couches and a matching set of chairs.

"I would have thought you would be happy to be back in your family home." Erik is prying, he knows he is, but Charles has been unusually reticent ever since he first suggested coming here.

"Aside from Raven it wasn't much of a family." Ah… there's a whole volume in that quiet confession. But, Erik doesn't say anything, doesn't ask anything, because Charles has always respected Erik's privacy, his need not to talk about some things, and the least Erik can do now is return the favour. If Charles wants to talk about it he will.

"Why don't you start laying out the board?" Charles suggests gesturing towards an elegantly carved chess set. "And I'll get us some drinks." The way he looks at Erik as he says it, jaw stubbornly set and eyes defiant and defensive, makes it clear that they won't be continuing this discussion about his family.

Erik isn't sure whether he's more surprised or disappointed that Charles doesn't want to confide in him. He knows he shouldn't feel either – every man is entitled to his secrets – but nonetheless there's a small unpleasant feeling in his gut and for a moment Erik wonders whether their friendship isn't defined as much by the things they don't say, as the things they do.

He lays out the chess pieces as Charles pours their drinks and then they both sit down and start playing, all in silence.

Sometimes silence speaks louder than words.

About ten minutes into the game there's a knock on the door and they both look up to find Moira standing in the doorway with a preoccupied look on her face and a sheaf of CIA files in one hand.

"May I come in?" She asks.

"Of course," Charles smiles at her and waves at the unoccupied couch. "Would you like a drink?" He adds holding up his own glass.

"No, thank you." She declines his offer of a drink as she takes a seat on the couch.

"Is there a problem?" Erik frowns at her tense body language.

"Have either of you noticed anything odd about Courtney?" She asks cautiously, placing the files she's been holding down on the couch beside her.

"What do you mean "odd"?" Charles puts down his glass with a small frown.

"You mean aside from her accent?" Erik asks.

"Yes." Moira is glad she isn't the only one who noticed that.

"Excuse me, what about her accent?" Charles' apparently didn't notice. But then, he has spent most of the last decade in Oxford; maybe it isn't so surprising that he hasn't spotted it.

"She wasn't wearing any metal earlier this evening…" Erik says thoughtfully. Moira frowns at that piece of information. Charles just scoffs.

"Come on Erik, that can't be that unusual…"

"Watch strap. Zip. Belt buckle. " He rattles off the list of metal items Charles is currently wearing, tugging each one, with his power, to emphasise his point.

"She doesn't own a watch. The trousers didn't have a zip and she choose not to wear a belt. What's so odd about that?" Charles' explanations would seem reasonable if Erik's instincts weren't screaming that it's more than that, and besides…

"That wasn't the only thing she choose not to wear…" Erik comments dryly.

"I'm sorry?" Charles asks, confused.

Erik resists the urge to smile at Charles' confusion. "How many bra clips have you undone in your time Charles?" He says, without looking at Moira.

"Oh," Charles blushes slightly as comprehension dawns; there are bras clips and suspender fastenings and underwire that few women go without in this day and age - all made of metal. He also, pointedly, doesn't look at Moira. "That's a little more unusual I'll admit, but I don't see why…"

"Charles," Moira interrupts, suddenly uncomfortably aware of all the metal _she's_ currently wearing. "Courtney Stevens has never applied for a passport."

That gets a reaction from Erik who sits up straighter in his chair and then leans forward to listen more intently to what Moira has to say.

"I'm sorry; but I still don't understand what you're suggesting." Charles says glancing between Erik and Moira.

"I don't know what I'm suggesting." Moira replies. "But, don't you think it's little odd that someone who has never even applied for a passport speaks with a British accent?"


	6. Chapter Five

This week's question: Is it helpful having these questions at the start of the chapter? Would you rather I stuck them at the end of the chapter instead of the beginning? Would you rather I not have them here at all and just left you to read in peace?

XXXXXX

**Chapter Five**

_Miss Stevens would you join us in the study please._

She sighs and rubs her forehead as Xavier's mental voice echoes in her head. She'd wondered when they would realise that something was wrong; honestly she's a little surprised it's taken them this long… But, she's not _ready_ for this, not yet… which apparently is tough shit because she's going to _have_ to deal with it now… there is no way they 're going to let this, whatever it is they've noticed, go without an explanation; the steel in Charles' mental voice was enough to assure her of that.

She gives another sigh and pushes herself off the bed. That simple act takes more effort than it should; her body is still weak from her near death experience and the strains of heroin withdrawal. She feels like an old woman as she makes her way carefully to the door and out into the corridor. Everything aches, all her muscles feel like they're made of water and it's an effort to control the shaking that still periodically wracks her body. But, somehow, she makes it down to the study only having to pause once on her way down the stairs.

She pauses again, outside the study, and draws in a deep breath to compose herself before reaching out to turn the door handle. Her fingers haven't even brushed the metal though when the handle turns by itself and the door swings open of its own accord. The Bastard…

That smug reminder of just what Erik Lehnsherr is capable of sets her nerves on edge.

All three of them are watching the door as she enters. So she is immediately hit with the full force of their gazes; Erik is suspicious and vaguely hostile. Moira is tense; guarded but currently withholding judgement until she has more information and Charles; well, Charles is looking a bit like a puppy that's just discovered that not all the other dogs are as nice as him, or want to play the game his way.

She resists the urge to sigh. Without even asking she walks across the room and takes a seat on the empty couch, opposite the three of them.

"Is there a problem?" She asks sitting back and crossing her legs in front of her. She looks at each of them in turn, meeting their eyes directly – she will not act as if she has done something wrong, as if she has something to hide.

They exchange a look, put off - she suspects - by her boldness, her appearance of self-assurance and confidence.

It's Charles who speaks. She's not surprised they've elected him their spokesperson, their interrogator. "While you were unconscious we tried to find out a bit about, your name, who you were, a little about your history…"

"Yes." It's a flat statement of acknowledgment, she's not surprised or upset; she just wants them to get to the point.

Charles glances briefly at Moira and Erik before continuing. "In the process we came across a few discrepancies we'd like you to clarify for us..."

"What sort of discrepancies?"

Charles frowns, looking for the tactful way to phrase their concerns, when Erik just goes ahead and jumps right in. "For example, would you like to explain to us why Courtney Stevens, who has never even applied for a passport, let alone left the country, has a British accent?" Erik watches her intently, waiting for her reaction.

"Because, I'm not Courtney Stevens." The blunt way she says it, with no attempt at pretending or preamble, surprises all of them.

"I'm sorry?" Charles blusters. "Then who are you? A shape shifter like Raven?"

"No. This is Courtney's body." She's so calm, Charles' finds it unnerving.

"You stole her body? How? Why?" The questions tumble out one after another. Charles' quick glance over at Moira and Erik confirms that they're as confused as he is.

"Stole implies depriving somebody of something. Courtney was already dead when I entered this body."

"Did you kill her?" Erik drops the question into the conversation like an accusation.

"No, she was dying anyway." She turns to look at Charles. "You know that Professor, you felt her fade away."

Moira and Erik both look at Charles, who nods slowly – that would explain what he felt when he was in Courtney's head, that first day after they found her; the way he'd felt her slip away and then come back... well he'd assumed it was her… but she'd felt so different… if this woman is telling the truth, if it was her and not Courtney who he'd felt after Courtney had slipped away, well that would make sense… if it wasn't so hard to believe… but then again telepathy and being able to move metal with your mind are pretty hard things to believe until you've seen them yourself… and Charles can pick up no sign with his telepathy that she is lying…

"Very well," Charles chooses to accept her explanation, for now. "Who are you then if you're not Courtney Stevens? And what are you doing in Miss Stevens' body?"

"My name is Natalie Walker. And as for why I'm here, well, I'm here because you put me here Professor."

2019

Seventeen days it takes her to find them.

Seventeen days, and they don't even look surprised to see her, the bastards. In fact, they look like they've been expecting her. So, she decides to cut the crap and get straight to the point.

"How does it work?"

"How does what work, Natalie?" The Professor asks with infuriating patience.

"Your plan to go back and change the past. How does it work?"

The two men share a look and Natalie just wants to scream at them. "Why do you want to know?" The Professor asks carefully.

"Why do you think?" Natalie snaps, she's stressed and exhausted and she doesn't want to stop and think about what she's doing or she might change her mind. Changing the past is a drastic, irreversible course of action, and back in that cabin Natalie hadn't believed there was any situation under which she would condone something so extreme. But, David is dead, half her students are dead, she hasn't heard anything from her family in months – chances are they're dead as well – she doesn't have much left to lose.

"We can send someone's consciousness back in time to their previous body." The Professor explains as calmly as if he was merely describing the weather. "The person themselves does not physically travel through time, just their consciousness."

"So it has to be someone who was alive back then." She concludes and feels her shoulders slump as the Professor nods.

"Yes, we were going to ask Logan."

"There's no other way?"

The two men share another look; a look that encases an entire conversation, but she's too wrapped up in her own despair to notice. "Well," The Professor says, slowly, reluctantly. "There is one other option, but it would have to be a telepath or an empath, and they would have to go back to a very specific point."

"What do you mean?" Her head snaps up. "You _could_ send me back?"

"Possibly," The Professor says the word carefully, as if trying not to get her hopes up… hers or maybe his... "There was a telepath, called Courtney Stevens; she died not long after I met her. She could have survived, but by that point she had given up on life. In theory, we could insert your consciousness into her body in the moment after she dies. It would be difficult and unpleasant, but with another telepath or an empath; someone whose mind is wired in a similar way, it should be possible."

Natalie frowns at his explanation; she doesn't remember Courtney's death from her time trawling through the Professor's past. But then again her memories of her time in the cabin are still a little fuzzy.

"And this point, the point where she died, it's after Cuba?" Even through the haze of grief, she remembers that that's important; it's the line in the sand she drew back in that cabin in the woods, and she'll hold onto it now because she has to hold on to something or she'll lose herself completely.

The two men share another long look and then the Professor inclines his head ever so slightly to Magneto who turns to Natalie and says very firmly, "Yes, it's after Cuba."

It's only when she wakes up in a hospital bed to find Erik Lehnsherr and Alex Summers both standing over her that she starts to suspect they lied to her.

When she sees Charles Xavier walk into the room without a wheelchair she _knows_ they lied to her.

1962

"Excuse me, I put you there?" Years ago, when she still had a sense of humour – before it was buried under so much death and destruction - Natalie would have found the baffled look on Charles' face amusingly adorable. Now, she's too tired, too beaten down, to be anything other than vaguely annoyed by the necessity of explaining herself.

"Yes," She says shortly, "though you said you were sending me back to after Cuba…" And that thought is enough to bring up much stronger feelings than mere annoyance; anger, frustration, fear… they lied to her! Lied right to her face, and…

"I'm sorry, I don't quite follow..." Charles has still got that confused look on his face; and Lehnsherr and Agent McTaggart are sporting their own expressions in various shades of baffled.

"I'm not surprised you don't follow, I've not exactly explained yet." The heavy sarcasm raises several eyebrows. "Sorry," She apologises grudgingly, "it's been a trying few weeks." And isn't that just the understatement of the century… or next century… or whatever… She's so far beyond her last straw that she's surprised she's not currently a gibbering wreck on the floor. Then again, maybe she is, maybe this is all some massive hallucination because after everything she said, all the warnings and arguments she gave; she cannot believe that those two cunning old men could have been so _stupid_ as to send her back to before Cuba!

"So how are you here? Why are you here?" The questions fall out, one after another, and Natalie can't help it she just sighs. It's not exactly a loud sigh, but it's deep and so, so tired – it silences Charles' questions. It silences the whole room. They just sit and watch her as she rubs her forehead tiredly. As she tries to compose herself and work out where the hell to start…

"Fifty years from now the world is going to go to hell." The quiet words sound loud in the silence. "They set out to kill us, all of us, and any human who tried to help us. They claimed they were after peace, freedom from the mutant threat: just pretty words for an attempt at genocide. But not all of humanity agreed with them. They split the world in two trying to destroy us; any human who opposed their policy of mutant annihilation was dubbed a collaborator and suffered the same fate as us mutants – extinction. They would burn entire cities to the ground just to get at a few of us….

"I shouldn't have survived for as long as I did. My powers don't work against their machines, only people. But, I was lucky, even after we had to close the school, the Xavier Institute stuck together. Students, teachers, we looked after each other as best we could. Still, most of us were dead within months. Things didn't get any better after that; they picked us off one-by-one, and then…" She stops and pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes for the briefest of moments. When she opens them again they're damp with unshed tears – she dashes them away, refusing to let them fall. "… then we lost even more… we lost hope. We could no longer see a way to save the future… but maybe… maybe… we could save the past instead…"

"I'm sorry, you're from the future?" Charles wants to scoff, laugh it off as some ridiculous joke, but the way Courtney… Natalie… looks at him, with so much grief in her eyes; he can't help but believe her.

"Yes. And I was sent back here to stop that future from happening."

"By doing what?" Erik asks, "Stopping Shaw from plunging the world into a nuclear war?"

Natalie's brow furrows in confusion. "What? No. I mean yes, but… that happened fine the first time! What happens in the future has nothing to do with Shaw!"

"So, why are you _here_ if we stopped Shaw the first time? Why now? Why not later?" Charles rolls out the questions, confused, as he has every right to be: being back _here_ doesn't make any sense!

"That's a very good question." Her tone is as dry as a desert, and just as inhospitable. "Apparently you and Magneto are both idiots who can't resist the temptation to meddle!" Erik raises an eyebrow when she says 'Magneto' – of course; he hasn't started using that name yet! Has Raven even suggested it to him? She must have... That happened in the CIA base, didn't it? God, she can't remember! There are so many memories floating around her head at the moment, the past, the future; so much that's she's having trouble keeping a track of everything…

"The temptation to meddle with what?" Charles' measured question brings her back from her rambling thoughts, it sounds like the old Professor, the Professor she knows, and that grounds her, brings her back to the present… this present anyway.

"Cuba."

"Cuba?"

"Yes, Cuba…" Natalie has to resist the urge to roll her eyes at all that repetition ("Do you know the muffin man?" "The muffin man?" "The muffin man!" runs through her head and she wonders which side of crazy she is really sitting on, how much damage the trip back in time did to her mind, whether she can hold it together long enough to fix things… Hell, who is she kidding? She was unravelling even before she came back in time – the end of the world will do that to you).

"What happens in Cuba?" Charles asks, more calmly this time. His tone is measured and firm; maybe he noticed that talking like that helps Natalie to focus.

"The Russians try to put nuclear missiles in Cuba." Natalie sticks to the facts, the things she can remember clearly, because whatever else is swirling around in the whirlpool of memories that is her brain at the moment, she can recall Cuba in all its painful detail. Amid all the chaos it sits there clear and sharp in her mind: a warning beacon of what needs to be avoided. "America sets up an embargo and threatens to blow the Russian missiles up if they cross the embargo line. Shaw tries to make sure they _do_ cross the line, so that the Americans will start a nuclear war."

"But, you said that didn't happen; Shaw didn't start a nuclear war…" Erik is matching Charles confused look for confused look…

"No, you stopped him."

"If we stopped him, then why would you want to change what happened in Cuba?" Moira this time, God... They're all chipping in now, picking holes in a plan she didn't agree with in the first place!

"It's complicated…" She finds herself suddenly reticent; she knows she has to tell them, has to explain, but it's going to change everything. Once she shows them Cuba, these three people will not look at each other in the same way again; will not look at themselves in the same way again. And if she does that, changes that, will they still be the people they need to be to stop Shaw…?

"Natalie," Charles asks again, "what happens in Cuba?"

She sighs. "It's easier if I show you…"

XXXXXX

"_I'm sorry Charles; it's not that I don't trust you…"_

"_Erik please! Be the better man! Erik there will be no turning back…Don't do this Erik!"_

"_This is what we're going to do… I'm going to count to three and then I'm going to move the coin…"_

"_Please Erik…"_

_A long drawn out scream and the searing pain of metal pushing through flesh…_

_Shaw dead, finally dead… _

_Then out on the beach._

"_The real enemy is out there. I can feel their guns moving in the water, their metal targeting us… go ahead Charles tell me I'm wrong…"_

_Betrayal, disappointment, disillusionment – Charles had believed humanity so much better than this…_

_Fear. Then relief as Erik stops the missiles in mid-air._

_Then fear again as the missiles start to turn… "Erik, you said it yourself, we're the better men."_

_The missiles keep turning._

"_There are thousands of men on those ships. Good, honest, innocent men! They're just following orders…"_

"_I've been at the mercy of men just following orders. Never again."_

"_No!"_

_Then the feel of flesh against flesh as Charles barrels into Erik. _

_Then Fists and bruising grips and sand and desperation... _

"_I don't want to hurt you! Don't make me!" _

"_Erik stop!"_

_A neat fist to Charles' jaw._

_The missiles flying straight once more._

_Moira's first bullet. Then the second. The Third. Fourth._

_Then Charles' scream. Back curving as he falls in the sand. The world seems to slow. The missiles explode, forgotten. _

_Erik cradles Charles. "I'm so sorry…"_

_Moira._

"_You, you did this!"_

_Moira struggling for breath._

"_She didn't do this, Erik. You did."_

_Moira, released, forgotten, gasping in the sand._

"_We're brother's you and I. We want the same thing."_

"_My friend, I'm sorry but we do not."_

_Erik leaving. Raven leaving. Sand and pain and grief and…_

"_I can't feel my legs… I can't feel my legs…"_

But, she doesn't stop there. She shows them more, much more. She shows them the registration act, Ellis Island, the Cure, the Sentinels, the War, the Xavier Institute burning…. She shows them glimpses of their whole future…. only glimpses though… she's not foolish enough to show them everything. Too much knowledge is a dangerous thing, and their friendship is going to be strained enough by what she's just shown them, there's no point stretching it to breaking point over things that haven't happened yet. She shows them just enough to hammer her point home, to show them the consequences of Cuba, to make it clear just what is at stake, to -

She slumps forward unconscious and Erik, Charles and Moira suddenly snap back to the present.

"Bloody hell…" Charles swears quietly: like the others he's reeling from what he's just seen.

"Good God…" Moira breathes. Her eyes are damp with tears. "Good God…" She repeats.

Erik doesn't say anything: he seems to have frozen in shock.

It takes Charles a moment to notice that Natalie is passed out cold on the other couch. When he does he hurries to her side and presses his fingers against her temple.

"Is she alright?" Moira asks. Erik turns to look at the unconscious woman. He still hasn't said anything and Moira notices that he's trembling slightly… and that all the metal in the room is starting to vibrate.

"She just pushed herself too hard." Charles concludes after a moment. "After everything she's been through, she wasn't strong enough to project so much into our minds for so long. She'll be fine in a little while…" He removes his hand from Natalie's forehead and sits down heavily on the couch beside her.

"Erik." Charles says the name sharply as the curtain rails start to rattle. The metal-bender flinches and the rattling stops. Erik is looking down at his hands: the way he doesn't look at Charles speaks volumes.

The way he stands up suddenly and stalks out the room, without even glancing at Charles, speaks even louder.


	7. Chapter Six

This week's question: How well do you think I've handled the reactions of Charles, Erik and Moira to what Natalie has told them about the future?

XXXXXX

**Chapter Six**

The morning dawns bright and clear, the sky is cloudless and a bright cornflower blue. It promises to be a warm day – a memory of the summer that supposedly surrendered to autumn weeks ago. It's beautiful, a new day, a new beginning, a fresh start…

Charles feels like he's looking at a picture in a storybook. How can a day look so beautiful, so hopeful, when he feels so bleak? He feels like he has his own personal black cloud hanging over his head. He feels caged in; trapped by the future and the past, by his own failings and the failings he failed to see in others, in Erik, in humanity. Erik has called him naïve so many times that the word had lost its sting, but now he sees that his friend (_is he still that? Can Charles still call him that after everything he's seen? Will Erik still consider him that?)_ was right, he has been stupidly naïve…

"I never knew you were such a champion sulker."

Charles nearly jumps out of his skin – he's not used to people sneaking up on him. No matter how preoccupied he is, he can always sense someone approaching him with his telepathic powers… unless of course that someone is also a telepath and able to hide their presence…

Courtney… Natalie… smiles at the way he starts at the sound of her voice.

"I'm sorry: I didn't mean to startle you."

Her smile tells him she isn't sorry and she _did_ mean to startle him.

"I'm not sulking." He says automatically – it sounds childish even to his own ears.

Courtn… Natalie raises an eyebrow. "Really, cos it looks like you're sulking to me…" She smiles mirthlessly. "I wouldn't feel too bad about it: Moira's upstairs moping and Erik is in the gym trying to beat the living daylights out of an innocent punch-bag – you're hardly the only one sulking." She gives another little smile, this one more sympathetic. "It was quite a bombshell I dropped on you all last night."

"Yes…" Charles agrees. "It's taking a while to digest."

Natalie nods. "I'm making pancakes," She announces nonchalantly. "You want some?"

"Um…" Charles replies eloquently, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift in conversation.

She interprets that as a 'yes'. "Well," She says. "Go fetch Erik and Moira and meet me in the kitchen. If you're quick we can get a few rounds in before the ravaging hordes descend."

Then she disappears off down the corridor. Charles watches her go and notes, with a frown and a hint of irritation, that she seems to have made herself at home very quickly. But then again, Charles remembers, from what he's seen of the future this is… was… will be… her home.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and hums thoughtfully to himself for a moment, because Natalie has instructed him to summon Moira and Erik for breakfast, and that presents him with a bit of conundrum: he _could_ just call out to them both telepathically and hope they come down: Moira probably would come down, but Erik… Erik will almost certainly stay upstairs and continue to - as Natalie so eloquently put it - sulk. Which means if Charles wants Erik to come to breakfast he will need to go upstairs and talk to him face to face. The question is; does he _want_ Erik to join them? He feels petty for even thinking the question: he knows that they all need to stop sulking; stop agonising over what Natalie showed them. They need to pull together and get past this, they need to sit down and talk and work out what they're going to do to make sure that that future never happens. But, Charles is only human and he can still feel his future self's pain and grief, still feel the terror of realising he was paralysed…

He sighs and decides to bite the metaphorical bullet.

XXXXXX

Erik is indeed doing his best to destroy the punch bag. There's sweat drenching his brow and anger in his eyes as he pummels fist after fist into the battered fabric. Charles stops in the doorway and watches the other man with a small frown on his face. Ever since Charles first met Erik he's been concerned about all that anger bubbling away inside the German, and now he's seen where that anger could take them all, what that anger could do to the whole world, and for the first time Charles feels a stirring of fear when he looks at the other man – fear of what he is capable of.

The steady thump of fist against fabric stops and Charles finds Erik is suddenly looking straight at him, jaw tightly set and eyes angry… angry and afraid… and suddenly Charles realises that he's not the only one who's terrified of what Magneto is capable of doing. And, that realisation means Charles is no longer afraid: Erik doesn't want that future, and that means they can change things.

"Natalie's making pancakes." Charles says conversationally, as if this isn't the first time they've set eyes on each other since Erik stormed out of the study last night.

Erik grunts and goes back to punching the punch bag.

Charles sighs. "You can't avoid us all forever."

The punches stop, Erik turns away from Charles and starts to take off his gloves. "Why are you here?" He asks the telepath without turning to look at him.

"Natalie's making pancakes…"

"That's not what I meant."

Charles sighs again. "We can fix this Erik."

"You can't know that for sure."

"Maybe not, but I doubt our future selves would have gone through all the trouble of sending Natalie back here if they thought it was pointless trying to change things."

Erik nods slowly and finally turns back to face Charles. "So, what do we do now?"

"Well, Natalie's making pancakes…" Charles repeats with a small smile and the sudden realisation that his is actually starving…

XXXXXX

When they enter the kitchen the first thing Erik notices is the huge pile of fresh fruit, vegetables and dairy products piled on the kitchen table – apparently having the wealth of the Xaviers means that all you have to do is click your fingers and the next day you can have enough food to feed an army appear on your table. Erik knows he should be grateful that they have the Xavier fortune at their disposal – and he is – but he's also angry and scared of what they saw last night, and it's easier to channel those emotions into annoyance at Charles' privileged childhood and hostility towards the woman who brought the future to their doorstep than face what those emotions really mean.

The woman in question looks up from the bowl she's cracking eggs into as they walk into the room.

"When did all this arrive?" Charles asks with a frown, which causes Erik to frown as well: the telepath must have been _really_ distracted if he didn't notice somebody arriving at the mansion.

"About half an hour ago." Natalie replies, starting to measure out the milk for the industrial sized quantities of pancake batter she appears to be making. "Henry Knight dropped it off, said he'd pop by again later to discuss setting up a regular order. It's very strange; I knew his grandson – they look scarily alike! I actually don't know what happened to Ian in the end… I didn't see him again after we closed the school. I hope he was alright… Still, I don't suppose it really matters now."

Charles is surprised by how verbose Natalie has suddenly become, in comparison to how reticent she's been for the last two weeks. But, there's something slightly odd about the way she rambles on without looking at Erik or Charles. It's almost as if she's talking more to herself than them, or even as if she's not completely aware that she's speaking at all. When Charles reaches out cautiously with his telepathy he's surprised by how calm her mind is, how empty, all her concentration is on the pancake batter in front of her, on measuring and sifting and whisking. She's focusing on the familiar motions, rather than the unfamiliar situation.

"I'm sorry," Charles says, slipping into a seat opposite Natalie, while Erik stands in the doorway and scowls. "I should have been here to meet him."

Natalie shrugs. "No worries, you had a lot on your mind." She shots a sideways glance at Charles as he helps himself to an apple from the pile. "Henry seemed rather please to hear you were back in the country; wanted to know if I was the new Mrs Xavier! I rather quickly disabused him of that notion – said I was just a student of yours from Oxford, that you were considering setting up a school over here."

"Did you?" Charles asks wryly, not sure whether to be annoyed at her presumption or impressed by the subtle manipulation – she's an intelligent woman; Charles will have to remember not to underestimate her.

"Yes." She replies firmly, "There are some things from the future which should definitely not be changed: the Xavier Institute is one of them."

"Anything else we need to keep from your future?" Erik asks dryly from the doorway, though it's a serious question.

She looks up at him and meets his gaze, still whisking the batter as she does so. "You still need to kill Shaw."

Charles frowns at that: at the firm way Natalie says it, as if it's non-negotiable, and at the predatory glint that appears in Erik's eyes when she mentions Shaw. Charles is about to say something, raise an objection, but Moira chooses that moment to appear in the doorway. Erik tenses as he notices her arrival: he can't quite bring himself to look at her, or she at him, and they both move wordlessly into the room and awkwardly take up seats as far away from each other as possible. Natalie glances between the two of them, but makes no comment on the way they seem to circle around each other on the way to the table.

Charles doesn't comment either, just steers the conversation away from Shaw, away from Cuba, until hackles have lowered a little. "One thing I don't understand." He says to Natalie, conversationally. "You weren't born a telepath?"

"No." Natalie keeps her tone just as conversational, as they wait for the ice between Moira and Erik to thaw a little.

"So, how were you able to speak in my head after you woke up?"

"Most mutations are more physiological than psychological. I'm in Courtney's body, so it's mostly her mutation I have at my disposal."

"That makes sense. But, if you've never been a telepath before, how did you know _how _to do that? It took me years to work out how to do that: to learn how to control my powers. You've had them for less than a fortnight…"

"Ah," She says with a smile as she finishes whisking the batter. "But I have a slight advantage."

"Oh?" Charles asks, genuinely curious, as Natalie stands up bowl in hand.

"Yes, I have four sets of memories in my head, and two of them are telepaths'." She sets the bowl down on the side and starts opening cupboards in search of a frying pan. Charles gives her a mental nudge in the right direction and she soon finds them.

"Four?" Moira asks with a frown, dragging her attention to the conversation and away from Erik who is still glowering into empty space (at least he's not glowering at her).

"Charles', Erik's, Courtney's and my own." Natalie clarifies, testing the weight of the frying pans until she finds one she likes. "And anyway empathy's not so different from telepathy, there are some transferable skills, some overlap in the senses and the techniques."

"Like projecting your emotions when you're ill?" Natalie doesn't so much as bristle at Erik's acid tone, just glances at him and replies in a far more civil tone than that barb deserves.

"My instincts are tuned to empathy, that's what they're used to, what they've grown up with. Is there really any surprise that my use of telepathy might have an emotional edge to it?"

"I suppose not…" Charles replies, pre-empting another caustic comment from Erik. Apparently it's a futile attempt…

"As fascinating as this discussion is, don't you think we there are more important things we should be discussing? For example; how we're going to prevent humanity from trying to wipe us all out in the future?"

Natalie gives Erik a sharp look. "We start by making sure you don't provoke them." That pointed comment causes Erik's face to darken, but before he can say anything she holds up one hand placatingly. "It's more complicated than that, obviously. But, let's take it one step at a time: our first priority is to make sure you're able to defeat Shaw this time around."

"Don't you mean: '_We're_ able to defeat Shaw'?" Charles asks stressing the inclusive plural.

Natalie snorts derisively as she sets the frying pan down on the stove. "What possible use would I be to you in Cuba? I barely have my head screwed on right. I'd be more a liability than an asset. No," she shakes her head. "I'll sit down with you and go through everything I know about Cuba – help you come up with a plan, but there's no point me coming with you."

Charles nods slowly, it makes sense, though he will admit to a niggle of concern as to whether they will succeed in Cuba without supervision. Natalie looks over at him from where she's been heating the frying pan on the stove. "Cuba went wrong the first time because Erik reacted on instinct instead of logic, and because you, Charles, spoke without thinking. Now, I assume neither of you are going to make those mistakes again?" Erik and Charles exchange a look, Natalie takes it as confirmation. "Good. Now, as for beating Shaw: I can tell you exactly where he will be, how he will block Charles's telepathy and how he will attempt to manipulate Erik. You'll have more information going in than you did last time, and you beat him last time."

She turns back to the stove as the butter in the frying pan starts to sizzle. For a moment nobody speaks in the kitchen, there are lost in their own thoughts as they watch Natalie add the first dollop of batter to the hot pan.

The silence stretches on, and eventually, as she flips over the first round of pancakes, Natalie glances at the three morose faces sat around the table. "You want to start putting all that stuff away, before the others come down?" She suggests, gesturing at the pile of food that is taking up most of the table.

"Oh, sorry." Charles says, jolting out of his reverie. He starts putting things away and Moira stands up to help him. Erik stays seated, a contemplative expression on his face.

"What _are_ we going to tell the others?" He asks after a moment.

Charles frowns around the open fridge door. "What do you mean?"

"About her," Erik clarifies gesturing in Natalie's direction. "About the future."

"The truth." Charles says as if he'd never contemplate anything else – he probably hasn't.

"You really think that's a good idea?" Natalie asks, not taking her eyes of the frying pan – the pancakes are at a delicate stage. "Have you seen the way you're all looking at each other now? Do you want them looking at you like that as well? No." She shakes her head. "To succeed in Cuba you'll all need to work together as a team. They won't be able to do that if they think they can't trust you."

"Should they trust us?" It's Erik who asks the question, but he's not the only one with that doubt in his eyes. "After what you showed us…" He trails off.

For a moment, there is silence as Natalie takes the pan off the heat and slides the cooked pancakes on to a waiting plate. Then she puts the pan down and turns to face Erik. "Those things haven't happened yet." She says very firmly. "They don't _ever_ have to happen. As to whether they can trust you or not; only you can answer that question. And, it has nothing to do with the person you might become, the things you might do in another future, and everything to do with the person you are right now.

Then she picks up the plate of pancakes and a set of cutlery and sits herself at the kitchen table. After a moment she realises they're all staring at her and she looks up. "What?" She demands. "You didn't expect me to stand there and cook for all of you, did you? You're all big boys and girls. I'm sure you can cook your own pancakes!" She then pointedly ignores them and starts eating.

Erik snorts softly in amusement and Charles and Moira's features twitch into matching smiles. Moira hands Charles the bottle of milk she's holding and then heads over to the stove to prepare her own breakfast.

They've all managed at least one round (Natalie and Erik have managed two) by the time a sleepy looking Raven appears in the doorway, sniffing appreciatively. Alex and Sean are about 10 minutes behind her. A mental reminder from Charles that unpacking the equipment can wait until after breakfast brings Hank in from where he's been sorting through the crates they had left in the jeep overnight.

"So, when do we start training?" Alex asks around a mouthful of pancake.

Charles, Erik and Moira all glance over at Natalie. _Don't look at me!_ She tells them. _You had a plan before you got here: stick to it._

The silent stretches on long enough to bring concerned frowns to the children's faces. But, before anyone can say anything Charles comes back to his senses. "Well, Alex," He begins, forcing his normal enthusiasm. "I thought we'd start with…"

Natalie smiles as the young professor launches into his plans and ideas for their training –he's such a natural at this; it's heartening to see. Eventually, they all split up and set about their tasks for the morning; Erik, Raven and Sean go with Hank to help him unload the jeep, while Charles takes Alex down to the bunker to practice Alex's control. Moira stops in the kitchen to help with the washing up.

Back in the future Natalie would have insisted that everyone wash up their own plates, but she lets it slide this time: this isn't the Xavier Institute yet, and she isn't a teacher. The two women pile up the plates in companionable silence, and when everything's been moved to the sink Natalie starts washing up, while Moira dries. The silence continues, but it's stretched thinner: there's a question on the tip of Moira's tongue. Natalie waits for her to spit it out.

"You said Cuba went wrong because of Erik and Charles." Moira says eventually. "But, I'm the one who fired the bullet. I'm the reason Charles was paralysed."

Natalie glances over at the CIA agent. "You did the only thing you could in that situation: you tried to prevent the deaths of thousands of men. That wasn't a mistake. Charles made a mistake in trying to argue that they were 'just following orders'. Erik shouldn't have tried to kill them in the first place. And, Erik was the one who bent the bullet into Charles's spine – yes, he didn't mean to do it. But, if he hadn't tried to kill those men you would never have fired. It wasn't your fault."

Moira nods slowly, not looking convinced.

Natalie smiles sadly. "He never blamed you. Never. Erik, he was angry at for a long time, but never at you. Anyway," She adds, "It's not going to happen like that this time around."

Moira doesn't disagree, but she doesn't _agree_ either, and the conversation lapses. It's a comfortable silence though, as they finish washing, drying and putting away the breakfast things.

Looking around to check they haven't missed anything, Natalie rolls back her shoulders to ease out the tension from leaning over the sink. She gives a slightly embarrassed yawn and says, "I think I'm going to have a nap. I didn't exactly sleep well last night, what with the three of you stressing out all night."

Natalie is halfway to the door when a quiet question from Moira stops her in her tracks.

"What if it _does_ happen the same way again. If Erik…" Moira trails off. "Do I shoot?"

Natalie doesn't hesitate, just turns and looks Moira right in the eye and says very firmly. "Yes."

Moira pales but doesn't argue.

"I mean obviously you try and talk him out of it first," Natalie adds, trying to ease the tension, "but, if that doesn't work, then yes you shoot."

Moira swallows uncomfortably but then, finally, nods.

Natalie feels herself relax ever so slightly: yes, she wants to change Cuba if she can (now that she's back here), but Charles being paralyzed is not the worst thing that could happen. She's glad someone else understands that.

If worse comes to worst then Natalie trusts Moira to do what is necessary.


	8. Chapter Seven

Thank you to those of you who have taken the time to review this fic! Please, please do continue to leave reviews, even if it's just to say "Yes, I liked this chapter." I put a lot of work into this fic and I'd really like to know if people are enjoying reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

This week's question: I know I sometimes have a tendency to flow between different characters' points of view. Do you find this confusing? Or does it work?

XXXXXX

**Chapter Seven**

"I will teach you to control this, Alex." Charles tells the teen as they emerge from the bunker. The way Alex looks at him, Charles can tell he doesn't believe it. Hell, Charles isn't sure he believes it himself anymore. It's not that he doesn't think Alex can learn to control his powers (Natalie's future shows that he can), or even that Charles couldn't be the one to show him how (again, see Natalie's future), but Charles is no longer sure whether he _should_ be the one to teach Alex, whether he's worthy of that task.

Charles' doubts are interrupted, however, as he and Alex enter the main entrance hall and he notices Court…Natalie sitting on the bottom step of the main staircase, staring out at nothing. She looks like she's still half asleep, like she's in that muzzy state you get when you awake too suddenly and can't quite work out where you are, whether you're still dreaming or not.

"Alex," Charles says quietly, "Why don't you go on ahead, and I'll catch you up?" The young man follows Charles' gaze to the figure at the bottom of the staircase. Alex nods in understanding and continues on to the kitchen, where the others are assembling for lunch, leaving Charles alone with the dazed-looking young woman.

Charles sits down on the step next to Natalie, slowly so as not to startle her. After a moment she turns to look at him; her eyes are distant, and damp. She doesn't say anything, just keeps looking straight at him, or rather through him. Eventually Charles feels the need to break the silence.

"They're getting lunch ready in the kitchen." It's a neutral statement, with nothing implied, it's just something to say, an attempt at starting a conversation.

"Hmm… Oh… I know…" She stops looking though Charles, and turns back to look at the entrance hall. "I was just on my way there, but I got distracted…"

"Distracted, by what?" Charles keeps his voice level and calm as he follows her gaze; she doesn't seem to be looking at anything in particular, just staring into space.

"Memories."

"Memories of what?"

She doesn't reply with words, instead she holds her hand out towards him, palm upwards. And, after the briefest moment of hesitation, Charles places his hand in hers.

The entrance hall immediately fills with people.

Teenagers of all shades and sizes laugh and shout and fight their way across the hall and through the mass of students as they all try to make their way from one classroom to another. One girl, instead of darting around the other students actually darts through them, her passage is accompanied by shouts and calls of 'Damnit it, Kitty don't do that!'. She just grins and runs up the stairs. In one of the doorways a woman with dark skin and bright white hair stands and oversees the chaos with a maternal eye. Next to her is a gruff looking man whom Charles recognises as the mutant who so eloquently told Charles and Erik where to go when they tried to recruit him a few weeks ago. They both watch the students with a protective eye, occasionally calling out an authoritative instructions to 'Stop that!' or 'Leave that alone!' or 'Bobby stop turning the corridor into an ice rink!'. It's a scene of chaotic joy, of life and hope, of promising young futures…

And then it all fades, leaving Charles alone with a misty-eyed Natalie sitting in the dappled sunlight.

"Who were they?" Charles asks after a moment.

"Your students."

"From the future?"

"Yes," She smiles sadly, wistfully. "There were so many of them, of us. You helped so many people."

"How?" It's a single word, but just asking that question betrays all the doubts Charles is currently having: how can he help these students in the future, when he can't help his students now?

Natalie glances over at him and frowns slightly. "You're a natural," she assures him "you're doing it now, with Alex and Sean and Hank."

Charles snorts dismissively. "The training session with Alex didn't exactly go well!"

Natalie gives him a sideways look. "You didn't expect him to get it right first time did you? Teaching is all about patience and perseverance."

He knows that. Of course he knows that, but they have so little time until Cuba… and well… Cuba. It all comes back to Cuba... "If I can't help him, why do you think I can help them?" No need to clarify who 'he' is. Right now Erik is at the heart of all of Charles insecurities – how could Charles have got it so wrong?

"What makes you think you _haven't_ helped him?" Natalie asks. "Look how much he's changed since he first met you."

It's Charles' turn to give Natalie a sideways look. "Cuba…" That one word explains it all.

Natalie sighs. "How long have you known Erik? A matter of weeks? A couple of months, maybe. How long has he been holding on to all that anger? How long has he been focused on killing Shaw? Years. Decades. Simple mathematics tells you that you shouldn't expect to have fixed him after such a short amount of time."

Charles has to grudgingly concede her point, but it doesn't make him feel any better because they need to fix Erik before they go to Cuba.

"No we don't."

Charles starts, he was sure he hadn't spoken that thought aloud… then he remembers that she's a telepath as well, and that he's going to have to keep a tighter rein on his thoughts from now on.

"We don't have to fix him." Natalie continues. "We don't have _time_ to fix him completely. And anyway, it's not _our_ responsibility to fix Erik. He has to fix himself; all we can do is encourage him."

Charles contemplates that for a moment. Eventually he asks, "Do you think he will change?"

"His future self does, and your future self."

"But, what do you think?" After all Charles and Erik's future selves are likely to be slightly biased.

Natalie considers the question carefully, and Charles is grateful for that, glad she really is thinking about it and not just giving him a short, off-hand answer. A brief mental image of an older Erik and a chess game in the park hovers in the air for a moment and then disappears – Charles isn't sure whether Natalie meant to broadcast that image or not. "Yes," She says eventually. "Yes, I think he can change. I think he wants to change, but he's scared."

"Aren't we all?"

Natalie laughs softly at that. "Terrified." She agrees and then pushes herself up off the step. "Lunch?" She asks holding out a hand to help Charles stand up.

"Lunch." Charles agrees, taking the offered hand.

XXXXXX

Raven is concerned about Charles.

He's doing a good job of putting on a cheerful front, but Raven knows her brother, and she knows what this house can do to him. Throughout lunch she watches him as he forces laughter and smiles, and then she frowns as she starts to notice other things: the way he keeps glancing at Courtney with something that's almost fear in his eyes; the way he seems to tip-toe around Erik, as if the German could explode at any moment. And then she notices Charles isn't the only one doing it: Moira is glancing at Erik and Courtney in exactly the same way. Erik has barely said a word all morning, and those he has spoken have been short and terse and he seems to be avoiding eye-contact with Moira, Charles and Courtney. Courtney is quiet as well, though that's hardly unusual. What _is_ slightly unnerving is the way that Courtney watches everyone at the table, everyone, but especially Erik and Charles: it's a cold, calculating look - like they're all lab rats in some experiment and she wants to make sure they all run down the right section of the maze.

Maybe it's not the house that's bothering Charles, maybe something else is going on…

After lunch Raven decides to corner Charles while he's searching the basement for an old pane of glass for Sean to practice breaking.

"What's wrong?" She asks, in the blunt way that only a sister can get away with.

"Oh! Raven! I didn't see you there! Would you mind helping me move this cabinet? I think we have some old window panes lying around from when we re-did the East Wing."

Raven rolls her eyes: that right there is a classic attempt at avoiding answering a question. Charles may not have seen her come into the basement, but he certainly sensed her. She doesn't call him on his attempt at misdirection just yet though. Instead she dutifully helps him move an ancient cabinet (the one with the broken door that they never got around to having fixed). Behind it there is indeed a pile of dusty glass window panes – enough to keep Sean occupied for a while.

Charles kneels down and starts leafing through the glass to see whether any of them are damaged.

"What's going on with Courtney?" Raven asks. It's a bit of a shot in the dark from Raven's point-of-view, but the way Charles tenses at the question suggests that she's hit pretty close to home.

"What do you mean?" Charles tries to sound nonchalant, but the way he doesn't quite look at Raven when he says it tells her that he knows exactly what she means: lack of eye contact is a classic sign that Charles is trying to hide something. Charles has always been a pretty appalling liar: he feels guilty telling even the smallest lie (unless that lie is to keep someone safe or to keep their powers hidden) and that guilt shines right through – especially when he tries to lie to Raven.

"You and Moira keep looking at her like she's the harbinger of doom, and at Erik like he's a bomb that's about to go off. Something is going on!"

Charles is impressed: 'harbinger of doom' and 'bomb that might explode' are pretty accurate descriptions of Natalie and Erik right now. Why does Raven have to be so perceptive? Because, he doesn't like hiding things from Raven, but Natalie is right: if the others knew about Cuba it could shatter the already fragile bonds between their little team.

Charles looks up at Raven. "It's nothing." He assures her.

She raises a sceptical eyebrow and Charles gives up: he just can't lie to her!

"It's complicated." He says instead.

Raven's expression becomes curious, but she still doesn't say anything as she takes up a perch on top of a stack of nearby crates. Sometimes silence is the best way to get people to talk: they start feeling awkward and try to fill up the silence with words. Charles doesn't automatically start filling in the silence – he's been on the receiving end of this tactic from Raven before – instead Raven watches as a series of expressions flicker across his face. He's clearly agonising over something. And while Raven is, naturally, curious about what is going on, the overriding emotion now is concern for Charles: what could be going on that is worrying Charles so much?

"It's complicated." He repeats, "And, I'm sorry Raven, I can't explain right now. I will, I promise, but it's…"

"… complicated." Raven finishes for him. Charles nods and gives her a look that pleads with her to understand. Raven sighs and gives in. "OK," She says cursing her weak will in the face of Charles' puppy-dog eyes. "So long as you do tell me! And soon!"

"Of course."

Raven nods: he's not broken a promise to her yet. "OK then. You need any help moving that glass?"

Charles beams at her, grateful for her understanding. "Yes, please."

Between them they manage to manhandle several of the window panes up out of the basement and into the gardens. They're just trying to work out the best way of mounting the glass when Raven notices Courtney slink onto the scene…

Raven spots the moment Charles realises Courtney is there, and then the shape-shifter watches as a telepathic conversation takes place. She can't hear what they're saying to each other, obviously, but there are enough giveaways in their facial expressions for Raven to get the gist of the conversation: there's the way Courtney's eyes narrow and focus in on Charles as he initiates the conversation; the stubborn set to Charles' jaw that says he's not going to break his promise to Raven; the way Courtney glances briefly at Raven and then back to Charles – she knows it's because of Raven that Charles is being stubborn. Then there's a long staring contest as the two telepaths argue back and forth, then the tiny drop in Courtney's shoulders and the slight incline of her head as she concedes to Charles.

Raven feels a stab of victory on Charles' behalf and then a vague, uncomfortable, feeling that she might regret this…

XXXXXX

_Fine. But not right this moment. Give me some time to work out how to tell them._

Charles knows when to back down, so he accepts Natalie's conditional surrender, accepts her reason for delaying, but also lets her know that he won't forget: she will have to explain to the others that she is from the future.

_They don't need to know all the details about Cuba though…_

It's an afterthought, a parting shot, but Charles doesn't argue. For Erik's sake he understands that there are some things it's probably best they don't share with the others. And, Charles doesn't even feel that guilty about keeping those parts of the future quiet, because it is _not_ going to happen that way this time around.

And then, Charles tries to push all thoughts of the future out of his head and concentrate on the present as Moira and Sean come around the side of the house: he has a student to teach. Hopefully, this will go better than this morning's session with Alex.

At the edge of his awareness he notices Natalie settle down with a book a short distance away; it's close enough that she can see and hear everything that is going on in Sean's training session, but not so close that she's crowding them. A small part of Charles is irritated by her presence, finds it claustrophobic, but most of him finds it reassuring: she won't let him make a mistake with Sean. And then he notices something which soothes that tiny irritated part of him, and makes the rest of him smile; Raven has settled herself a short distance away from Natalie and is watching the other woman like a hawk. He should tell Raven that it's not necessary, that Natalie doesn't need watching. But, he doesn't, because he's not completely convinced that Natalie _doesn't_ need watching, and besides that feeling that his sister cares enough to be so overprotective, well it's quite a nice feeling.

It's not long though, before all thoughts of Raven and Natalie flee from his head as he immerses himself in Sean's training, on testing and then strengthening the range of his voice.

By the end of the training session Sean has successfully broken all of the window panes that Charles and Raven brought up from the basement, and everyone is feeling suitably pleased with themselves as they start to pack up and then head back into the house for dinner.

XXXXXX

Sean knows he isn't the sharpest tool in the box (especially not when the rest of the box includes Charles and Hank) but, as they all sit down to dinner that evening, even he can tell that something isn't right: Erik's been grumpier than usual all day, Charles and Moira are tip-toeing around him and each other, and all the adults seem to treating Courtney as if she's radioactive or something. Something is clearly going on. The way Raven is glaring at Courtney and shooting concerned looks at Charles suggests she knows something about what is going on. And Sean knows that Alex has spotted that something is wrong – the older teenager had taken him aside just before dinner and asked if he knew what had got up Erik's nose. Hank, however, appears to be completely oblivious to the whole situation – genius as he is the scientist is pretty crap at picking up on social signals.

The tension between the adults stifles the conversation around the dinner table and it's during a pause in conversation, a silence that goes on a moment too long to be comfortable, that Charles sets down his fork with a determined expression on his face, turns to look straight at Courtney and says in a firm tone; "So, Natalie, have you decided what you're going to tell everyone about where you came from?"

"Wait, who's Natalie?" Sean asks in confusion.

Courtney just sighs. "You're an idiot Charles."

"I'm not comfortable lying to the people I care about." Charles' tone is vaguely reproachful, almost accusatory.

"Oh, you'll get over that little hang-up at some point in the next fifty years…" Natalie retorts; Oh, yes, she's definitely still pissed at The Professor and Magneto for lying to her, and as they are unfortunately not here Erik and Charles are bearing the brunt of her anger (Natalie thinks it might be easier on her sanity if she tries to keep the present and the future versions of Charles/The Professor and Erik/Magneto separate in her head. If she treats them as completely different people it might make the whole situation a lot easier to cope with. Maybe).

"I thought the whole point of you coming back in time was to stop that future from happening." It's Erik who jumps in this time, and Natalie should probably be reassured by the fact that he's still willing to jump to Charles' defence, but she's too pissed at the pair of them to care right now.

"Wait, back in time? Future? What are you talking about?" Sean is completely confused, his gaze darting between Charles and Courtney like he's watching a tennis match.

They don't answer him immediately, Charles and Courtney are glaring at each other, and Sean suspects they're engaged in a telepathic argument. Courtney is the one who looks away first. She sighs and puts down her cutlery. Then she turns to the rest of the table and says something which is quite possibly the last thing Sean ever expected her to say: "My name isn't Courtney Stevens, it's Natalie Walker. I was born in the year 1989, and I came back in time from 50 years in the future in order to stop the world from ending."

The teenagers all stare at her with expressions that say they can't work out if she's joking or not.

"It's true." Charles assures them.

They blink in unison and then their faces morph into various shades from sceptical to downright disbelieving.

"Time-travel isn't possible." Hank states with the unequivocal assurance of someone stating a well-known scientific fact.

"It breaks causality." Courtney… Natalie… whoever she is… agrees with Hank. "I know. But, it turns out Einstein wasn't right about everything."

Hank opens his mouth and looks like he is about to continue arguing about the physical impossibility of time travel when Alex asks a question which silences the entire table, "If you're from the future, did you know that he was going to kill Darwin?"

Everyone turns to look at Court…Natalie.

She doesn't flinch under all those intense stares, just looks Alex right in the eyes and answers calmly. "Yes."

"Then why didn't you stop it?" Alex demands angrily, and damnit, Sean wants to know the same thing! "Why didn't you warn us? We could have saved him!"

"The honest answer is: I was still reeling from my trip back in time, I was barely coherent – I didn't realise we were so close to those events until it was too late." Reluctantly Alex relaxes slightly, mollified by her explanation. But, then she continues… "However, the even more brutally honest answer would be that even if I had remembered in time, I probably wouldn't have interfered: what if I had, and Shaw had killed more of you than just Darwin?" She doesn't add: 'and if Darwin hadn't died, you wouldn't be the man you are today, you wouldn't be so determined to beat Shaw, and we need that determination'.

Alex is furious at that answer, and so are most of the rest of the table – furious or shocked. Charles is looking suddenly uneasy: he's starting to doubt whether they should trust a woman who can make such a callous decision. But, Moira and Erik, they're looking at her in a way that's shocked, yes, but also understanding: they can appreciate the calculation she had to make, the weighing up of one life against many. That understanding reassures Natalie: she acts as if she's so sure about these decisions, about what the way forward should be, but she's not, she's really not. She knows she's not quite herself at the moment (how could she be after everything that's happened), she's almost certainly suffering some sort of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – hell, after everything that she's been through it would be peculiar if she _wasn't_. But, what that really means is that right now she can't be completely sure she's making the right decisions for the right reasons, and the fact that Moira and Erik understand about Darwin… well, maybe that means she _is_ still capable of making the right calls…

The rest of the table doesn't see it that way though.

"Darwin's death," Natalie says firmly, before anyone can interject with an angry comment, "as tragic as it was, was not the end of the world: if Shaw isn't stopped it _will_ be the end of the world."

And _that_ comment forces everyone to stop and think.


	9. Chapter Eight

In many ways this is one of my favourite chapters, but it's also… well… you'll see…I would just be very interested to hear what you think of the interactions between Natalie, Eric and Charles that occur towards the end of this chapter.

XXXXXX

**Chapter Eight**

There is a very long silence after Natalie's comment about the world ending; her point seems to have hit home. She doubts though that Alex, in particular, will forgive her anytime soon for her reluctance to save Darwin. But, that's fine by her – so long as they beat Shaw, she will happily live with Alex being angry at her.

When the silence is finally broken, it's by Hank. "If you're from the future," Hank starts to ask slowly, "then you know what happens to us, all of us?"

It's an awkward question, and one Natalie had hoped they wouldn't ask. Now that it has been asked though all she can do is answer honestly: Hank is too smart to be fooled by her lying about this. "Yes." She says shortly

"And…?" Raven asks eagerly, curious about her possible future – she wouldn't be if she knew what it entailed.

"And that's it." Natalie replies firmly. "I'm not telling you what happened to you in my future. I'm not telling you anything else; I'm from the future, I can help you beat Shaw and then I can help you make sure humanity doesn't end up in an all-out war with mutants. You don't need to know anything else."

"Come on! You can't just not tell us what happens!" Alex protests.

"You really want to know?" Natalie doesn't believe them: they might think they want to know, but Natalie knows their future; they don't want to know.

"Yes!" Alex insists.

"You want to know how you die? When, and where and how?" She throws the questions at them, hard and fast, and they just sit there in stunned silence, not sure how to respond. "No, I didn't think so." Natalie says with a sense of finality and goes back to eating her dinner.

"So, Alex dies…" Hank says after a moment.

Natalie lowers her cutlery with a sigh. "Everyone dies Hank."

"I meant- "

"You meant what?" Natalie demands. "Does he die young? Does he die in Cuba? Does he live to ripe old age and die in bed surrounded by doting grandchildren? I repeat: I am not going to tell you!"

"Why not?" Sean chips in. Natalie is getting more than a little annoyed at this barrage of questions from the children, and at the way Charles, Erik and Moira are sat there spectating instead of helping Natalie: they can't _really_ think that it's in the children's best interests to know how they die.

"Because it's not going to happen that way now!" Natalie exclaims, her frustration bleeding through. "And I don't want you living your lives fearing or expecting something that's not going to happen."

"If it's not going to happen, why does it matter if you tell us?" Raven wheedles.

She stares at Raven for a long moment, a furious look on her face, and then she snaps. "Fine. Ok, Fine. The four of you…" She points to Raven, Sean, Alex and Hank, in turn. "In my version of the future; within 10 years two of you will have been captured by an anti-mutant organisation, tortured and experimented on. One of you will die from it, the other will escape and spend the rest of their life hating humanity and trying to destroy all humans. As for the other two, one of you has a long, successful, career and is eventually made America's ambassador to the UN – this country's most prominent mutant – and then they will be assassinated by anti-mutant extremists, an event which seriously escalates tensions between our species. And finally, the fourth person: survives active service in Vietnam but is killed in a road accident a few years later. And, no I will not tell you who is who."

And, that _finally _shuts them up.

XXXXXX

After Natalie's revelation about the future there is a very long, very awkward, silence. A minute and a half of those shocked stares is about all Natalie can take before she drops her fork on to her plate with a clatter and without another word stands up and walks out of the kitchen. She walks and walks, along corridors that are so familiar and yet at the same time so alien. She doesn't care what they're saying about her back in the kitchen, doesn't care what they think about her: she is here to save the future, and if she has to hit hard to do so then she will. If she has to lie and keep secrets and manipulate people to ensure that the world doesn't end then that is what she will do. The war has stripped everything from Natalie, stripped her right down to the bone; she used to believe that the ends didn't justify the means, that murder was never justified, that there were some things she would never do, crimes she would never commit.

Now she knows better.

She will put a bullet in Charles Xavier's back herself if that's what it takes to save the future.

She hopes it doesn't come to that of course, but the war has taught her to prepare for the worst.

Eventually the eerie familiarity of the mansion's corridors drives Natalie outdoors. It's a cool, clear, night and the feel of the night air against her skin helps ground her, helps her feel alive, alive and real, rather than lost in a dream. She glances up and smiles a small genuine smile for the first time in weeks: with so little light pollution around the Milky Way can be seen clearly.

She's always loved the stars.

Even during the darkest days of the war, when she would curse the whole universe, curse the stars themselves, for bringing this destruction down on their heads, she could still appreciate the beauty of the stars. She remembers one night, maybe three months ago, when the students of the Xavier Institute had found themselves camping in the middle of a forest. Her and David had snuck away for a few moments and, in a brief respite from the terror and the fear, made love beneath the stars…

She chokes back her grief, pushes away the pain of David's death, pulls her thoughts back down to earth, back to the present and away from the pain of the past (or the future, depending on your point of view), and notices that she's not the only one who's enjoying the celestial beauty: Erik is leaning on a stone balustrade, looking out over the lawn and up at the stars. She hesitates for a moment and then starts walking across the gravel towards him.

He turns his head as the crunch of gravel announces her approach, but he doesn't say anything as she comes and leans on the balustrade next to him. They stand there in silence for several minutes, Natalie watching the stars and Erik watching Natalie, a thoughtful frown on his face.

Eventually Erik asks the question that's clearly been running around his head for the last few minutes; "Is that really how they die?"

Natalie glances at him briefly and then turns back to look at the stars, her jaw firmly set. "Yes." She says shortly.

"You didn't show us that." Erik's tone stops just short of making that statement an accusation.

"I didn't show you a lot of things." She says matter-of-factly, still looking up at the stars.

Erik frowns. "What aren't you telling us?"

She glances over at him and shrugs. "I told you, lots of things. You can't really want me to dump 50 years of memories in your head, especially when they're memories of events that probably aren't going to happen anymore."

"Is what you're hiding worse than what you showed us?"

She gives him a piercing look. "Wasn't what I showed you bad enough?"

Erik doesn't answer verbally, just keeps looking at her with that penetrating stare of his. Erik is a pessimist: as bad as Cuba was, there can always be something worse.

Natalie is resolved not to say anything, not to tell anyone any more about the future, but she's forgotten how intense Magneto can be, and while this younger Erik hasn't quite refined that stare into the razor sharp weapon of his older self, it is still pretty potent. She finds herself cracking under that gaze, and so says the first thing that comes into her head; "You kidnapped me and my fiancé once, well, he was only my boyfriend then…" Yes, it was all part of a grand plan to save the future – a plan she's enacting at this very moment – but she didn't know that at the time, and that doesn't mean she's forgiven either the Professor or Magneto for the terror of that car journey, or for the years of memory loss; the years of not knowing, of fearing what might have happened in those missing three weeks. Those years of not knowing built up a fear of Magneto in Natalie that even now she finds difficult to dispel.

Erik blinks, and then frowns: he hadn't expected her to say that, hadn't expected his future self to have caused her so much pain on such a personal level. "I'm surprised you feel comfortable being alone with me."

"I don't." She admits. "But, sometimes trusting someone is a choice, a conscious decision to override our instincts."

She glances over at him and sees the sceptical look on his face. With a sigh she pushes herself upright and taking a step towards him reaches out to take one of his hands. He straightens up, curious, and doesn't resist as she moves his hand until it's resting just beneath her right breast. He raises a surprised eyebrow, but her expression is serious as she looks up and meets his eyes.

"Do you feel that?" She asks. "That metal there: a thin wire resting inches away from my heart. I know you noticed yesterday when I wasn't wearing it. How easy would it be for you to move it, to turn it, to use it to pierce my heart or my lungs?" Erik is disturbed that she thinks like that, thinks about how something so innocuous could be used to kill her. But, he knows he shouldn't be surprised: it's how _he_ thinks. The years in the camps - with Shaw – taught him to think like that… to think about how someone could kill you… or you could kill them… He runs his fingers around her ribcage, feeling the metal beneath his fingertips, thinking. She lets him, watches him as he frowns and struggles to understand what she's telling him. "For years" She continues quietly, "I've avoided underwired bras, metal belt buckles, zips, all kinds of metal fastenings, because I was terrified of what Magneto could do with them."

"You mean what I could do with them." He tugs at the metal around her chest to prove his point, tightens it, just a little. She draws in a breath, pulling her chest in, but apart from that she doesn't move: doesn't even flinch.

"No." She says the word firmly, calmly, as if Erik isn't holding a thin band of metal tight around her chest. "You're not that man."

"Not yet."

"Do you want to be him?"

"No..." He releases his powers, lets the metal return to its original shape.

"Then you won't be." She seems so sure.

"It's not that simple."

"Yes," She insists. "It is. We are the people we choose to be. Of course, inevitably, things will happen that we have no control over, things that can shape who we are. But we can choose _how_ they shape us. We can choose whether we let those moments define us or not. We can choose who we become."

"You're sounding a lot like Charles…"

She gives a soft snort of laughter. "Well," she admits, "foolishly naïve and overly optimistic he may be, but sometimes he is right." She reaches up one hand to gently cup Erik's face. "You won't become that man." She assures him. "I won't let you." There's so much steel in those four words that Erik can't help but believe her.

Then he realises that his hand is still resting against her chest and that they are standing so close that he can hear every beat of her heart, feel every breath she takes through his fingertips, as her ribcage rises and falls and rises again; it's vaguely hypnotic being this close to someone. He looks down at her and she stares back up at him. Her hand is still resting against his cheek. It's cool against his skin, as cool as the night air, and that's probably not a good thing –she's all skin and bones, she should be back inside where it's warm. Erik should make her go back inside, but he doesn't move. He just stares down at her, wondering how a woman who's seen what he has done, the man he will become, can have so much faith in him.

"You won't become that man." She repeats quietly, bringing her left hand up to cup his other cheek. She pushes herself up on to her tiptoes, so her face is closer to his. Erik's other hand automatically goes to the other side of her ribs: stabilizing her. She drags his face down to hers so that they're nose to nose, eye to eye. "You won't." She repeats and they are so close that he feels the warm breath from those words brush against his lips. And then, even that gap has disappeared and their lips are pressed against each other. For a heartbeat they stay like that, frozen, shocked, and then Natalie breathes out and into the kiss. They both ease into it, gently at first and then eagerly, hungrily, desperately. His hands tighten on her waist. Her hands slip down to rest on his shoulders. Her lips open slightly, inviting and…

Suddenly, she's pushing him away, pulling back, wrenching herself free of his grasp and turning away with a shuddering breath to grip the balustrade behind them.

Her abrupt withdrawal leaves Erik reeling for a moment and his suddenly empty hands clasp at nothing before dropping to his side. "I'm sorry." He says, though he's not sure why. Not sure if he's the one who should be apologising. Hell, he's not exactly sure what just happened… Then he notices that Natalie's breath is coming in short bursts, as if she's fighting off a panic attack, and that she's gripping the stone beneath her fingers so tightly her knuckles have turned white. "What's wrong?" He asks, demands, even more confused.

"Nothing, it's not you. It's just… God… Sorry… " She gasps, chest heaving with the effort not to hyperventilate. "It's just… God!" That last word comes out as a curse. "It's just… the last man I kissed… was my fiancé…" Her breath hitches and she squeezes her eyes closed for a moment "… as he died in my arms."

For an age the only sound in the still night is Natalie's shuddering breaths as she tries to stop herself from crying.

"When did he die?" Erik asks eventually.

"18th August 2019." Natalie answers, opening her eyes. Her breathing has stabilised, but her hands, when she lifts them off the balustrade, are shaking.

"I meant, how long ago for you?" Erik clarifies, his voice surprisingly gentle.

She sighs. "I know what you meant…" She says her voice cracking; the sarcasm she's been using so much is a defence mechanism: it stops her from having to think about everything that's happened: from having to feel it. "How long was I unconscious for?" She asks, "After you found me."

"Five days."

"A little over a month ago then." She concludes, after a moment's calculation. And most of that month was spent either being unconscious, suffering through withdrawal symptoms or focused so intently on finding the Professor and Magneto, that she hasn't had time to think about the fact that David is dead. She hasn't wanted time to think. She hasn't wanted time to grieve, because grieving will make it real. She hasn't even cried for him yet. Not unless you count the screams and denials as he bled out in her arms. But in all honesty, those hadn't been tears of grief: shock and denial, frustration, disbelief, pain, yes… but not grief… grief by its very nature has a modicum of acceptance in it and she hadn't been anywhere near ready to accept it then. She's not sure she's ready now… "I'm sorry," She tells Erik. "I shouldn't have kissed you."

"I think you'll find I kissed you."

She gives a short humourless, almost hysterical laugh. "I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you! I'm an empath; sometimes I project my feelings, the things I want on to other people. And, I'm sorry I honestly don't know whether that kiss was my fault or yours."

"You wanted to kiss me?" Now, he's really confused.

She gives him a look that's half annoyance, half despair. "I wanted David to kiss me! I wanted someone to kiss me! God! I just… wanted to feel less alone!"

"You're not alone." Three little words, but they have just as much impact now as they did all those weeks ago off the coast of Miami.

She freezes for a moment and then breathes out slowly. She reaches up to rub her forehead, before turning to face Erik. "He said that to you, didn't he, when you first met?"

"As you said, Charles may be hopelessly optimistic, but sometimes he is right."

It's not really funny, but that comment draws a short hysterical laugh from Natalie; a laugh that quickly turns into gasping sobs. Her whole body is shaking as she tries to hold herself together, tries to control these unwelcome tears. She needs to be strong for a little longer – she has a future to save. But, when Erik reaches over to pull her into his chest she doesn't resist. She used to tell her students that sometimes being strong means having the courage to let someone else help you – maybe it's time she took her own advice. She knots her hand into Erik's shirt, buries her head into his chest and lets the tears start to fall. He presses a brief kiss into the top of her head and lets her cling to him as the sobs wrack her body, just holds her as the emotion comes pouring out, because this is grief, and this he understands.

After a few moments her initial tears start to subside. Erik looks up and notices Charles leaning against the side of the house, half wreathed in shadow, watching them with a sad look on his face.

Erik has no idea how long he's been standing there.

Erik feels Natalie shift against his chest and when he glances down he sees she's turned her head and is looking straight at Charles. Wordlessly she holds out her hand to the telepath. Who pushes himself upright and crosses the space towards them to take her hand.

She drops her head back against Erik's chest and lets her and Charles' clasped hands hang loosely between them.

And then Erik feels it, a gentle brush at the edge of his consciousness; hesitant, questioning. Natalie hovers at the edge of his mind and for the briefest moment there is a memory that's not his; a cabin in the woods and three minds joined together, when all this was just an academic puzzle on a piece of paper, rather than cold hard reality.

And then Erik realises what she's doing, what she's asking for; his and Charles's minds are the only familiar things for her, lost in a time she doesn't know. So, as she embraces the grief she's been hiding from, lets loose the floodgates, she reaches out to their minds like a drowning person clings to a piece of driftwood – she does it to stop herself going under. So, Erik lets her in, lets her burrow into his mind, lets her hold on to it and use it to anchor herself to reality.

It's a strange feeling to have someone else in your head.

Erik has felt it before of course; when Charles jumped in after him in Miami. But, this is different: Charles had been a calm, steady, presence. Natalie's mind is anything but calm. She's fraying at the edges, coming apart at the seams. Her sanity has been stretched to its limits by everything she's been through, and she knows it, and for someone who has always relied upon her mind, considered it her greatest asset, the thought that she might be losing it terrifies her. Erik feels her fear as she anchors her mind in his, feels her grief and her pain, sees it, sees flashes of what she's been through, the pain and the death… and then strangest of all he realises he can feel something else: he can feel Charles. Not in his own head, but through Natalie's mind Erik can feel the way she is also anchoring herself in Charles' mind.

The only way Erik can describe it is like a gymnast balancing with each foot on the shoulders of two different people; Erik can feel the way she shifts to stabilise herself and the way Charles stays steady underneath her other metaphorical foot. He feels her test their strength and her own balance, and when she finds her equilibrium in their heads she lets loose a long, tired breath and starts to open her memories of David. Erik can't see them, not really: Natalie isn't sharing his head, as such, just using his mind to balance her own. But, he catches brief flashes: like watching a movie through speckled glass, and he feels tendrils of her emotion seeping out of her. Tendrils that build into rolling waves as she relives the days leading up to her fiancé's death. As she moves closer and closer towards the inevitable event Erik feels her dig her toes deep into their minds: holding on tight so she doesn't fall, as the waves build and rage and then finally crash over her in a great wall of grief that leaves her sobbing and gasping for breath one hand knotted in Erik's shirt, the other still clutching Charles' tightly.

"I'm sorry," she mutters after a moment, letting go of Erik's shirt and dashing the tears away from her cheeks. "You didn't want to feel all that."

"Don't apologise. It's better to share grief than to bottle it up." Charles reassures her.

"What?" He asks when he notices the look Natalie is suddenly giving him: intent and focused, as if she's trying to work out a complex maths problem. Then she turns to look at Erik, and Charles realises what she's thinking.

So does Erik.

"No."

"Why? Is your grief going to be more painful than mine?"

Erik frowns at her because that is an unfair question if ever there was one.

"Or," she says ruthlessly, "Are you afraid you don't know who you'll be if you let go of all that pain? Because, I've shown you who you will be if you hold on to it." Charles has to admire this woman - she certainly doesn't pull her punches.

Erik tenses and looks as if he is about to push Natalie away, to walk away as he has done every time Charles has pushed too hard. But, Natalie won't let him. Her free hand snakes out to cup the back of Erik's head, to hold on to him and force him to look her in the eye.

"I've already seen it all Erik." She says gently, "so has Charles, and we're both still here. There is nothing in there that you can show us that will drive us away." Then she drops her hand to the side of Erik's face, and slowly, so he can pull away if he wants, she reaches up to kiss him again.

There's nothing sexual about this kiss, it's just open and honest, welcoming, beckoning, pleading with Erik to trust her, to trust them, just like she trusted him with her grief. Charles feels it all, echoing down the link between them, anchored in their still clasped hands but stretching deeper into the very depths of their consciousness. And, Charles feels the moment Erik starts to relent, the moment he eases out of the kiss and let his forehead rest against Natalie's. His eyes are raw and vulnerable as they ask her if she's sure, really sure, she wants this pain. Then he lets out a long breath that's almost a sigh and closing his eyes, rests his cheek against Natalie's forehead.

She lets out a small gasp of surprise as the first wave of Erik's grief comes rolling across their connection. He gives a little jerk as if to pull back, but Natalie's firm hand moves to the back of his head to prevent him from moving away. She feels Charles's hand tighten in hers as the first wave of pain rolls on into him.

And it is just the first wave. Erik is deliberately cautious, deliberately gentle, letting his pain and grief out bit by bit in waves; he doesn't want them to drown in it. It laps and rolls through their minds, breaking against them in seething tides of emotion. It bounces off the boundaries of their minds, picking up some of Natalie's grief as it goes, some of Charles's, until all there is, is a sea of emotion blurring the edges of their existence.


	10. Chapter Nine

This chapter and the next were originally all one chapter but then it started getting ridiculously long and I decided to split it into two. So, I apologise for the slightly odd point at which this chapter ends.

This week's question: Moira and Raven are hard to write! How do you think I'm doing with these two ladies?

XXXXXX

**Chapter Nine**

When she comes across the three, supposedly adult, mutants curled up against each other like a litter of puppies Moira isn't sure whether to smile or roll her eyes. They make quite the picture and the temptation to sneak back into the mansion and find a camera is large, but so is the mansion and she has no idea where to even look for a camera. So instead, she settles for leaning down and shaking them awake before the kids come outside and find them.

"Well, this is embarrassing…" Charles mutters as he drifts back to consciousness and realises where he is.

"Could be worse," Natalie points out dryly, her eyes still half closed. "At least we've still got our clothes on…"

Erik snorts at that and sits up rubbing at the crick in his neck.

"What were you doing out here last night anyway?" Moira asks genuinely bewildered. The three mutants share a look, not really sure how to explain what happened – it's not exactly something that can be described in words.

"Sharing grief." Is the explanation that Natalie finally gives and to their surprise Moira accepts that explanation with a nod and a smile of understanding; as if from those two words she really does comprehend exactly what happened between the three of them last night, and, maybe she does, she is a very perceptive woman.

"The kids will be up soon." Moira points out. "You might want to go and change before they start making assumptions about why you're still wearing yesterday's clothes." There's a hint of amusement tinting her voice.

The three mutants share a look and without any telepathic communication jointly reach the conclusion that while there's nothing actually _wrong_ with the three of them still being in last night's clothes, Moira probably has a point. Besides, nobody really wants to spend two days in the same clothes if they can avoid it.

XXXXXX

After months on the run from the Sentinels, being able to strip off last night's clothes and step into a hot shower is a luxury Natalie no longer takes for granted. She savours the feeling of warm water flowing over her body, as it eases the ache from muscles protesting at having spent the night sleeping in such an unnatural position. Except, of course, it's not really _her_ body: it's Courtney's. She tries not to think about that. She has a future to change; she doesn't have time to deal with body dysphoria on top of everything else. So, she pushes it to the back of her head and thinks about other things, doesn't dwell on the fact that this body doesn't feel right, that the arms are too short or that the hips too small or that the weight (what little of it there is) is distributed differently or the million other discrepancies between the body she grew up in and this one that she's stolen from a dead woman. She tries not to think about it. But sometimes it's a difficult truth to ignore. For example, when she reaches for something and, misjudging the distance, drops it, or when she turns a corner wrong and catches her elbow on the wall… or when she goes to step out of the shower and misjudges the length of Courtney's stride…

Stepping out of the shower, it's something she's done a thousand times before. But, not in this body…

As her foot comes down it catches and twists on the edge of the shower instead of landing safe on the floor as she'd intended. She snaps out an arm to steady herself but gets the distance wrong and misses. Gravity takes over and she tumbles to the floor. Her knees crack down on the hard tiles and in her old body she would have been able to halt the fall there. But, this isn't her body. Hands go out to stop her descent but somehow she gets it wrong again, one wrist twists painfully and she slips sideways cracking her head against the wall.

Stars dance in her vision and for a second everything goes black.

It all happens so fast. One moment she's upright and the next she's a tangled mess of throbbing limbs. After her vision clears she just lies there, reeling from the suddenness of the fall. After a moment she pushes herself into a sitting position, rests her back against the wall, and discovers that not only has she twisted her wrist and her ankle but she has cracked her head hard enough against the wall that she's now dripping blood onto the floor.

She wants to sigh: it's so _stupid_; slipping getting out of the shower.

And then there's the sound of people running along the corridor towards the bathroom and she just wants to swear. Of course, Charles, with his stupid, unnecessary and frankly annoying saviour complex has picked up on the pain of Natalie's fall and come running in like the exasperating hero that he thinks he is, to save the damsel in distress. And, she knows she's being unreasonable but everything hurts, including her pride and she's pissed and frustrated that something as simple as having a shower has suddenly become so hazardous.

The footsteps have stopped; Charles must be outside the door now.

From her position on the floor Natalie sees the lock on the inside of the door start to turn – so, Erik's there too.

"Don't come in!" She snaps angrily.

The handle stops.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Charles' voice is laced with concern and for some reason that just irritates Natalie even more; she is not some useless young woman who needs Charles to barge in and save her– dammit, she survived seven months on the run from the sentinels! She is quite capable of looking after herself (she pointedly ignores the fact that she's currently a bundle of bruised limbs on the bathroom floor).

"I'm fine!" She snaps back at Charles, despite all evidence to the contrary. "Just slipped getting out of the shower."

The lock starts to turn again.

"Don't!" This time as well as the verbal command she throws a mental instruction at them to _stay out!_

The lock stops turning.

"You're bleeding." Charles points out – and of course he wouldn't respect her privacy enough to stop himself from checking up on her. Though it appears the shock of the fall has shaken loose some of Natalie's mental shields – he shouldn't have been able to pick up on the fact she's bleeding - or maybe her shields aren't as strong as she thought they were, after all telepathy and empathy are subtly different and she's only been a telepath for a few days... "One of us should come in there and make sure you haven't concussed yourself, or broken anything…" He's being reasonable; Natalie knows he is, nevertheless…

"Charles, I slipped getting out of the shower. If either you or Erik come through that door I will personally make sure that you spend the rest of the week thinking you are five years old!"

"Natalie…" Charles starts to argue.

"Getting out of the shower…" She repeats, emphasising the last word, hoping Charles will get her point without her having to spell it out. Because, from where she's sat, awkwardly propped up against the wall, Natalie can see her towel and dressing gown, lying just out of reach, and whenever she tries to move her head starts pounding. She hates to admit it, but she does need help, and while she's not shy about her body (being on the run with the remains of the Xavier Institute left little space for privacy and even less for being self-conscious about the lack of privacy), this isn't her body and the whole situation is just so undignified that the last thing her battered pride needs is Charles' pity or Erik's amusement at finding her naked and bruised on the bathroom floor.

There's a brief silence as her meaning sets in. "I'll get Moira to come up." Charles says eventually, his voice tight with embarrassment. Natalie can feel Erik's amusement through the door, though whether it's at her situation or at Charles' reaction to it she can't be completely sure. For the sake of her own temper she decides to assume it's the latter.

"Thank you!" She says shortly, leaning her head back against the cold wall, closing her eyes and hoping the throbbing in her head will fade soon.

It feels like a lifetime later when Moira slips in through the door, first aid kit in hand. The CIA agent wordlessly picks up the towel as she passes it and hands it to a grateful Natalie. As Moira checks Natalie over in silence, Natalie finds herself relaxing slightly: Moira's calm, professional, manner is soothing on Natalie's frayed temper.

"Well, nothing appears to be broken," Moira says after a several minutes of careful inspection. "And, it doesn't look like you have a concussion, just a few bruises and a couple of sprains."

"And a battered ego." Natalie adds under her breath.

Moira frowns. "What happened?" And, when Moira asks that question it doesn't nettle Natalie's pride.

Natalie sighs and starts to push herself up into standing position before being stopped by a firm hand from Moira, who insists on wrapping a supportive bandage around her sprained wrist and ankle first.

"I slipped getting out of the shower." Natalie explains, as Moira starts to unravel the bandages from the first aid kit. It's a sparse explanation and the look Moira gives Natalie makes it clear that the CIA agent is well aware that there is more to it than that. But, she doesn't say anything, just sets about bandaging Natalie's ankle and waits for the empath to crack under the strain of the silence.

Natalie doesn't say anything for a long time. She watches as Moira carefully and professionally bandages her ankle and then starts to work on her wrist. Eventually Natalie bites her lip and lets out a breath. "This isn't my body." She says in a small voice. Moira glances up at her but doesn't say anything, just waits patiently as Natalie tries to find the words to explain. "It's not the body I grew up in, and it's so different, I keep dropping things or tripping. I just want my old body back, my old life back, back from before the world went to hell! But I can't have it back, I can't go back. That future is gone now and I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life in this body, in this time, and I don't know if I can do it. I'm supposed to be saving the world, but I can't even get out of the shower without injuring myself!" It all pours out in a jumbled, emotional, rant and Natalie hates that, hates that she appears weak and emotional, vulnerable.

"I'm sorry." Natalie apologises as Moira's silence stretches on. "You didn't need to hear all that."

The other woman frowns and sits back on her heels. "Don't apologise." She says firmly. "After everything you've been through you don't need to apologise for complaining a bit. But you're wrong: you're not the one who's supposed to be saving the world," Natalie looks up and frowns, about to say something, when Moira holds up her hand and finishes what she was going to say, "we're all supposed to be saving the world. Don't take this burden all on yourself, let us help you. Trust us."

Natalie smiles wryly. "It's not that I don't trust you…"

"… but you don't trust us." Moira finishes with a matching smile.

Natalie laughs softly. "More I don't trust Erik and Charles not to be idiots."

"They'll pull through." Moira says firmly.

"I know," Natalie agrees sombrely. "But… well I need to be sure."

Moira nods in understanding. "You can't help them if you don't look after yourself, though."

"I'll try not to fall out of any more showers." Natalie assures her in her driest tone.

"That's not what I meant."

Natalie looks up, frowning.

"You can't keep bottling everything up, hiding it away and not expect to explode at some point. And the last thing we need at the moment is for you to explode."

Natalie stares at Moira, momentarily speechless and feeling strangely disorientated: Natalie should be the one saying things like that; she's the empath, or she was before she switched Courtney's power for her own, and she was always the one preaching about accepting your emotions, respecting them and living with them rather than suppressing them – when did she lose that? Was it during the war? Was it when David died? She isn't sure, it might have been a gradual thing, but it's one more part of herself that she's lost. And this part is one that she knows she'll need to get back at some point.

Either Moira's misunderstood Natalie's silence or she's decided to ignore it, because after a moment the CIA agent offers another piece of advice: "Have you considered talking to Raven? If anyone could understand what it's like to be walking around in a body that's not their own, she would."

Natalie continues to stare at Moira, though this time in surprise with more than a hint of thoughtful: that might not be such a bad idea.

XXXXXX

The knock on Raven's bedroom door is timid. So, when the shape-shifter opens the door to find Natalie standing on the other side she is somewhat surprised: up until this point the woman has been everything but timid. There is a moment of awkward silence as Natalie shifts uncomfortably, before the telepath finally voices her reason for being there: "Can I borrow some clothes? I've run out. I mean Moira bought me some when we were at the CIA base, but she only picked up one set of spare stuff when we left. I know I could just wash it, obviously, but it seems a bit ridiculous to have to wash stuff every other day, so I thought I'd just come and ask if you had anything I could borrow."

By the time Natalie has finished her rambling explanation Raven is staring at her like she's grown a second head: rambling and unsure are _not_ words Raven would have ever have thought to associate with the woman standing in front of her, at least not before today.

"Um, sure." Raven feels herself thrown by Natalie's uncharacteristic behaviour. "Why don't you come in, and I'll see what I can find?" Raven waves Natalie into the room, and the telepath takes the offered perch on the bed while Raven makes her way over to the wardrobe.

"What about this?" Raven asks pulling a black and white dress out of the wardrobe and holding it up for Natalie to see.

Natalie shrugs, her face twisting into a rueful grin. "I honestly don't know. I'm not exactly used to dressing this body."

Raven frowns, she hadn't thought about that, hasn't really considered that Natalie is wearing Courtney's body, hasn't stopped and thought about what that really means. She hesitates, knowing it's a question that it probably isn't polite to ask, but she just can't help herself: "What did you use to look like?"

Natalie just looks at her for a moment, her face not quite frowning, and then wordlessly she pushes herself up off the bed and walks over to the full length mirror hiding in the corner of the room. She stops in front of it and then without saying a word, or turning to look at Raven, the telepath holds out a hand to the shape-shifter. Raven puts the dress down, crosses the room and puts her hand in Natalie's. Then she turns to face the mirror.

For a moment it shows their reflection; the blonde Raven and the Brown-Haired Natalie, and then Natalie's reflection changes and shifts. It grows taller, fuller, grows in every direction until in place of the skinny, brown-haired, wraith is a curvy, bubbly, blonde woman. She smiles and her blue eyes sparkle in her round face, the dressing gown has disappeared and she is wearing a dress that wouldn't look too out of place in the 1950s; full skirted and strap-less, but the forget-me-not blue makes it look fresh and bright – makes her look bright and alive. For a brief moment that bright Natalie smiles and swings her skirt, and then she shifts again, shifts and fades and shrinks, drops the puppy fat, loses unhealthy amounts of weight and gains lines under her eyes and all across her face: lines that tell too many tales of stress and pain. There's a AK-47 slung over one shoulder and the trousers and jacket she's wearing have no distinguishing features other than that they're indistinguishable underneath the mud and stains (some of which look suspiciously like blood). This Natalie isn't smiling, she's staring straight ahead, eyes intense and frightened. She stares at Raven for a moment and then she's gone and Raven is once again looking at the Natalie she recognises; the Natalie that used to be Courtney Stevens.

There's a very long silence and then Natalie drops Raven's hand and turns her back on the shape shifter – on the shape shifter and the mirror.

"I'm sorry." Raven apologises to Natalie's back, in a small voice.

Natalie turns back to face the shape-shifter. She forces a thin smile and shrugs. "Don't apologise. It was a fair question."

"No it wasn't."

Natalie smiles again, and this time it is genuine smile: soft and sad. "No it wasn't. But I don't mind you asking" Perching herself back down on the edge of the bed, Natalie looks over at Raven, her gaze now piercingly intense. "Now, fair's fair, why don't you show me what you really look like?"

Raven frowns, suddenly very self-conscious, but, after what she has just asked of Natalie, it's not really a request Raven can refuse. So, Raven turns away slightly, so she's no longer looking straight at Natalie – and so she can no longer see her reflection in the mirror – and she changes. She lets go of her concentration, her control and lets her body slip back to her natural shape, her natural shade. It's a strange feeling, like she's just taken off a suit of armour, like she's suddenly exposed – she might still be wearing a dress, but Raven feels suddenly naked.

"Do you like how you look?" Natalie asks the question neutrally after several seconds of Raven not quite looking at her.

Raven frowns and turns to face Natalie, suddenly annoyed. "I'm blue." She says flatly.

"And?" Natalie asks blandly as if she can't see the problem with being blue.

"I'm blue! I look like a monster, like something mothers would use to scare their children!"

Natalie frowns at that. "I think you're exaggerating somewhat." She stands up and gently taking a hold of the young woman's shoulder turns her to face the mirror. Natalie stands next to Raven as the two women study Raven's reflection – she is very definitely blue. "A hundred years ago" Natalie says slowly, "pale skin was considered beautiful, nowadays tanned skin is what women strive for. In ancient China small feet and large eyes were necessary for a woman to be considered beautiful, in Ancient Egypt it was a high waist and narrow shoulders, in the renaissance it was a rounded stomach and full hips, while in the roaring twenties it was a boyish figure that was most desired. The meaning of "beautiful" has changed depending where you are in the world and what time in history it is. Beauty is a social construct. And right now this country is going through a lot of social changes: the civil rights movement, Second-Wave feminism. People's attitudes towards lots of things are going to change over the coming years, don't assume they can't also change to accommodate you as well."

"I thought you said that in the future humans were at war with mutants – that doesn't sound very accommodating to me."

"Yes, well," Natalie tries not to frown, because really Raven does have a bit of a point though not as much of a point as she thinks she does. "The early Mutants' Right movement went about things the wrong way," – Erik went about things the wrong way – "Some humans became convinced we were a threat. Not all by a long shot, many humans supported us, fought with us… died with us…" Natalie takes a breath, a brief pause to push down the tears before they can well up at the thought of one particular human. "But, well, enough of them felt threatened by us..." Natalie trails off slightly, takes another breath and then looks directly at Raven. "It's not going to happen that way this time though, I won't let it." There is steel in those last few words and Raven feels a brief thrill of fear, fear and respect: It is clear that Natalie will do everything she can to protect mutantkind, to ensure they are accepted into society and how can Raven not respect that?

"How are you going to stop it?"

"We should focus on stopping Shaw from a starting a nuclear war before we start looking that far ahead." Natalie brushes off Raven's question, pushes it away for now, because in all honesty she hasn't thought that far ahead! Ever since David died she's been acting on instinct pure and simple: she knows that by coming back in time she _can_ save the future but as for _how_ she'll go about preventing the war with the Sentinels…. God she doesn't know! She really hasn't thought this through! She's supposed to be saving the world and it turns out she's making it up as she goes along! Lord alive, what she needs is time. Time to sit and think, to plan and work out what to do and really it's not such a problem that she hasn't thought things through yet: they have years before Trask Industries starts the Sentinel Program. What they need to focus on for the moment is Shaw and Cuba. Unfortunately, Raven doesn't see it that way….

"How are we going to stop humans thinking mutants are a threat?" Raven repeats, though this time Natalie notices the use of the word 'we' instead of 'you' and she pauses before brushing off the question for a second time: there's a look in Raven's eyes that makes Natalie want to frown. It's a look that's equal parts respect, hope and a burning desire to do something, be something… to belong…

It's a look that in another future Raven levelled at Erik.

That realisation hits Natalie like a stab of victory because keeping Raven from joining Erik's Mutant Brotherhood is as important as making sure Erik doesn't found it in the first place. And, if in this future Raven transfers her respect, her loyalty, to Natalie instead of Erik then Natalie can steer her away from extremism, keep her on the right path, make sure she does the right thing. The sense of victory is snuffed out: she's considering manipulating a young woman, for the 'greater good' – how does that make Natalie any better than Erik? Yes, Natalie likes to think she would keep Raven from becoming a cold blooded killer. But, in all honesty Natalie knows her own morals have been compromised by the war: Can she really guarantee that she won't become like Magneto?

"Natalie?"

Natalie blinks and realises that she's been quiet, been lost in her thoughts, for too long. "Sorry." She says. "I drifted off for a moment there: there's a lot going on in my head at the moment."

Raven nods slowly, though with a slight frown: a tendency to drift off is not a trait you really want in someone trying to save your species… "I asked how you were going to stop human from thinking that mutants are a threat…"

Natalie notices the return to 'you' rather than 'we' and resists the urge to sigh: one step forward, another step back…


End file.
